, 
•  •.  - 

m  /':.\,v' 


THE 

THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 
A  NOVEL 


THE  WORKS  OF 
JOSEPH  HERGESHEIMER 

NOVELS 

THE   LAY   ANTHONY    (1914) 
MOUNTAIN    BLOOD    (1915) 
THE   THREE   BLACK    PENNYS    (1917) 
JAVA   HEAD    (1918) 
LINDA   CONDON    (1919) 

SHORTER    STORIES 
GOLD   AND   IRON    (1918) 
THE   HAPPY    END    (1919) 

TRAVEL 

BAN  CRISTOBAL  DE  LA   HAVANA 

(To  appear  in  the  Fall  of  1920.) 

At  all  bookshops 

ALFRED  A.  KNOPF,  PUBLISHER 
NEW  YORK 


THE 

THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 

A  NOVEL 


BY 
JOSEPH  HERGESHEIMER 


NEW  YORK   ^jfl        VF         MCMXX 

ALFRED' A'KNOPF 


COPYRIGHT,  1917,  BY 
ALFRED  A.  KNOPF 

Published,  September,  1917 
Second  Printing,  October,  1917 

Third  Printing,  April,  1918 
Fourth  Printing,  October,  1918 
Fifth  Printing,  April,  1919 
Sixth  Printing,  October,  1919 
Seventh  Printing,  June,  19SO 


PBINTED   IN   THE   UNITED  STATES  OF   AMERICA 


A  DEDICATION 

Dear  John  Hemphill. 

This  is  a  record  and  act  of  memory 
of  you  at  Dower  House  —  of  June 
nights  on  the  porch,  with  the  foliage 
of  the  willow  tree  powdered  against 
the  stars;  the  white-panelled  hearth 
of  the  yellow  room  in  smouldering 
winter  dusks;  dinner  with  the  candles 
wavering  in  tepid  AprU  airs;  and 
the  blue  envelopment  of  late  Septem- 
ber noons.  A  quiet  reach  like  the  old 
grey  house  and  green  fields,  the  little 
valleys  filled  with  trees  and  placid 
town  beyond  the  hill,  where  the  calen- 
dar of  our  days  and  companionship  is 
set. 

Joseph  Hergesheimer 


2226772 


CONTENTS 


I     THE  FUBNACE  1 

II     THE  FORGE  139 

III     THE  METAL  275 


I     THE  FURNACE 


THE 
THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


A  TWILIGHT  like  blue  dust  sifted  into  the 
shallow  fold  of  the  thickly  wooded  hills. 
It  was  early  October,  but  a  crisping  frost 
had  already  stamped  the  maple  trees  with  gold,  the 
Spanish  oaks  were  hung  with  patches  of  wine  red, 
the  sumach  was  brilliant  in  the  darkening  under- 
brush. A  pattern  of  wild  geese,  flying  low  and  un- 
concerned above  the  hills,  wavered  against  the  serene, 
ashen  evening.  Howat  Penny,  standing  in  the  com- 
parative clearing  of  a  road,  decided  that  the  shift- 
ing, regular  flight  would  not  come  close  enough  for 
a  shot.  He  dropped  the  butt  of  his  gun  to  the 
ground.  Then  he  raised  it  again,  examining  the 
hammer;  the  flint  was  loose,  unsatisfactory.  There 
was  a  probability  that  it  would  miss  firing. 

He  had  no  intention  of  hunting  the  geese.  With 
the  drooping  of  day  his  keenness  had  evaporated ;  an 
habitual  indifference  strengthened,  permeating  him. 
He  turned  his  dark,  young  face  toward  the  trans- 

3 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


parent,  green  afterglow ;  the  firm  eyebrows  drawn  up 
at  the  temples,  sombre  eyes  set,  too,  at  a  slight  angle, 
a  straight  nose,  impatient  mouth  and  projecting 
chin.  Below  him,  and  to  the  left,  a  heavy,  dark 
flame  and  silvery  smoke  were  rolling  from  the  stack 
of  Shadrach  Furnace.  Figures  were  moving  ob- 
scurely over  the  way  that  led  from  the  coal  house, 
set  on  the  hill,  to  the  top  and  opening  of  the  furnace ; 
finishing,  Howat  Penny  knew,  the  charge  of  char- 
coal, limestone  and  iron  ore. 

Shadrach  Furnace  had  been  freshly  set  in  blast; 
it  was  on  that  account  he  was  there,  to  represent,  in 
a  way,  his  father,  who  owned  a  half  interest  in  the 
Furnace.  However,  he  had  paid  little  attention  to 
the  formality ;  his  indifference  was  especially  centred 
on  the  tedious  processes  of  iron  making,  which  had, 
at  the  same  time,  made  his  family.  He  had  gone 
far  out  from  the  Furnace  tract  into  an  utterly  unin- 
habited and  virginal  region,  where  he  had  shot  at, 
and  missed,  an  impressive  buck  and  killed  a  small 
bear.  Now,  that  he  had  returned,  his  apathy  once 
more  flooded  him;  but  he  had  eaten  nothing  since 
morning,  and  he  was  hungry. 

He  could  go  home,  over  the  nine  miles  of  road 
that  bound  the  Furnace  to  Myrtle  Forge  and  the 
Penny  dwelling;  there  certain  of  whatever  supper  he 
would  elect.  But,  he  decided,  he  preferred  some- 
thing now,  less  formal.  There  were  visitors  at  Myr- 
tle Forge,  Abner  Forsythe,  who  owned  the  other 
half  of  Shadrach,  his  son  David,  newly  back  from 
4 


THE  FURNACE 


England  and  the  study  of  metallurgy,  and  a  Mr. 
Winscombe,  come  out  to  the  Provinces  in  connection 
with  the  Maryland  boundary  dispute,  accompanied 
by  his  wife.  All  this  Howat  Penny  regarded  with 
profound  distaste;  necessary  social  and  conversa- 
tional forms  repelled  him.  And  it  annoyed  his  fa- 
ther when  he  sat,  apparently  morose,  against  the  wall, 
or  retired  solitary  to  his  room. 

He  would  get  supper  here;  they  would  be  glad  to 
have  him  at  the  house  of  Peter  Heydrick,  the  man- 
ager of  the  Furnace.  Half  turning,  he  could  see  the 
dwelling  at  his  back  —  a  small,  grey  stone  rectangle 
with  a  narrow  portico  on  its  solid  face  and  a  pale 
glimmer  of  candles  in  the  lower  windows.  The 
ground  immediately  about  it  was  cleared  of  brush 
and  little  trees,  affording  Peter  Heydrick  a  neces- 
sary, unobstructed  view  of  the  Furnace  stack  while 
sitting  in  his  house  or  when  aroused  at  night.  The 
dwelling  was  inviting,  at  once  slipping  into  the  dusk 
and  emerging  by  reason  of  the  warm  glow  within. 
Mrs.  Heydrick,  too,  was  an  excellent  cook;  there 
would  be  plenty  of  venison,  roast  partridge,  okra 
soup.  Afterwards,  under  a  late  moon,  he  could  go 
back  to  Myrtle  Forge ;  or  he  might  stay  at  the  Hey- 
dricks  all  night,  and  to-morrow  kill  such  a  buck  as 
he  had  lost. 

The  twilight  darkened  beneath  the  trees,  the  sur- 
rounding hills  lost  their  forms,  in  the  east  the  dis- 
tance merged  into  the  oncoming  night,  but  the  west 
was  still  translucent,  green.  There  was  a  faint 

5 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 

movement  in  the  leaves  by  the  roadside,  and  a  grey 
fox  crossed,  flattened  on  the  ground,  and  disap- 
peared. Howat  Penny  could  see  the  liquid  gleam 
of  its  eyes  as  it  watched  him.  From  the  hill  by  the 
coal  house  came  the  heavy  beating  of  wild  turkeys' 
wings. 

He  could  go  to  Peter  Heydrick's,  where  the  venison 
would  be  excellent,  and  Mrs.  Heydrick  was  cele- 
brated for  her  guinea  pickle  with  cucumbers;  but 
.  .  .  the  Heydricks  had  no  daughter,  and  the  Gil- 
kans  had.  Thomas  Gilkan  was  only  a  founderman ; 
his  house  had  one  room  below  and  a  partition  above ; 
and  Mrs.  Gilkan's  casual  fare  could  not  be  compared 
to  Mrs.  Heydrick's  inviting  amplitude.  Yet  there 
was  Fanny  Gilkan,  erect  and  flaming  haired,  who 
could  walk  as  far  as  he  could  himself,  and  carry  her 
father's  clumsy  gun  all  the  way. 

His  thoughts,  deflected  by  Fanny  Gilkan,  left  the 
immediate  present  of  supper,  and  rested  upon  the 
fact  that  his  —  his  appreciation  of  her  was  becom- 
ing known  at  the  Furnace;  while  Dan  Hesa  must  be 
circulating  it,  with  biting  comments,  among  the  char- 
coal burners.  Dan  Hesa,  although  younger  than 
Howat,  was  already  contracting  for  charcoal,  a  for- 
ward young  German ;  and,  Fanny  had  said  with  a 
giggle,  he  was  paying  her  serious  attention.  Howat 
Penny  had  lately  seen  a  new  moroseness  among  the 
charcoal  burners  that  could  only  have  come  from 
the  association  of  the  son  of  Gilbert  Penny  and  the 
potential  owner  of  Myrtle  Forge  with  the  founder- 
6 


THE  FURNACE 


man's  daughter.  Charcoal  burners  were  lawless 
men,  fugitive  in  character,  often  escaped  from  terms 
of  indenture;  Dan  Hesa  was,  he  knew,  well  liked  by 
them;  and  the  hazard  created  by  his  attraction  to 
Fanny  Gilkan  drew  Howat  Penny  irresistibly  away 
from  the  superior  merits  of  the  Heydrick  table. 

That  was  his  character:  denial  as  a  child  had 
filled  him  with  slow-accumulating  rage;  later  disci- 
pline at  school  had  found  him  utterly  intractable. 
Something  deep  and  instinctive  within  him  resisted 
every  effort  to  make  him  a  part  of  any  social  organ- 
ization, however  admirable;  he  never  formed  any 
personal  bonds  with  humanity  in  particular.  He 
had  grown  into  a  solitary  being  within  whom  were 
immovably  locked  all  the  confidences,  the  spontane- 
ous expressions  of  self,  that  bind  men  into  a  solidar- 
ity of  common  failings  and  hopes.  He  never  offered, 
nor,  apparently,  required,  any  marks  of  sympathy; 
as  a  fact,  he  rarely  expressed  anything  except  an 
occasional  irrepressible  scorn  lashing  out  at  indi- 
viduals or  acts  that  conspicuously  displeased  him. 
This  had  occurred  more  than  once  at  Myrtle  Forge, 
when  assemblymen  or  members  of  the  Provincial 
Council  had  been  seated  at  dinner. 

It  was  after  such  a  scene  that  his  mother  had  wit- 
nessed perhaps  his  only  attempt  at  self-explanation. 
"  I  am  sorry  you  were  disturbed,"  he  had  pro- 
nounced, after  standing  and  regarding  her  for  a 
silent,  frowning  space ;  "  but  for  me  there  is  some- 
thing unendurable  in  men  herding  like  cattle,  pro- 

7 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


tecting  their  fat  with  warning  boards  and  fences. 
I  can't  manage  the  fiddling  lies  that  keep  up  the 
whole  silly  pretence  of  the  stuffy  show.  If  it  gets 
much  thicker,"  he  had  threatened,  waving  vaguely 
toward  the  west,  "  I'll  go  out  to  the  Ohio,  or  the 
French  forts." 

That  this  was  not  merely  a  passive  but  an  active 
state  of  mind  was  amply  expressed  by  his  resolute 
movement  toward  Thomas  Gilkan's  house.  He  had, 
ordinarily,  an  unusual  liking  for  the  charcoal  burn- 
ers, and  had  spent  many  nights  in  their  huts,  built, 
like  the  charring  stacks,  of  mud  and  branches.  But, 
organized  by  Dan  Hesa  into  an  opposition,  a  criti- 
cism of  his  choice  of  way,  they  offered  an  epitome 
of  the  conditions  he  derided  and  assailed. 

His  feeling  for  Fanny  Gilkan  was  in  the  greater 
part  understood,  measured;  there  was  a  certain 
amount  of  inchoate,  youthful  response  to  her  sheer 
physical  well  being,  a  vague  blur  of  pleasant  sensa- 
tion at  her  proximity;  but  beyond  that  he  felt  no 
attraction  except  a  careless  admiration  for  her  en- 
durance and  dexterity  in  the  woods,  a  certain  relief 
in  the  freedom  of  her  companionship.  He  had  never 
considered  her  concretely  as  a  possible  source  of 
physical  pleasure.  He  was  not  easily  excited  sex- 
ually, and  had  had  few  adventures  with  women; 
something  of  his  contempt,  his  indifference,  removed 
him  from  that,  too.  His  emotions  were  deep,  vital ; 
and  hid  beneath  a  shyness  of  habit  that  had  grown 
into  a  suspicious  reserve.  All  bonds  were  irksome 
8 


THE  FURNACE 


to  him,  and  instinctively  he  avoided  the  greater  with 
the  lesser;  instinctively  he  realized  that  the  admis- 
sion of  cloying  influences,  of  the  entanglements  of 
sex,  would  more  definitely  bind  him  than  any  gen- 
erality of  society. 

It  had,  he  thought,  grown  dark  with  amazing 
rapidity.  He  could  now  see  a  feeble  light  at  the 
Gilkans,  ahead  and  on  the  right.  At  the  same 
moment  a  brighter,  flickering  radiance  fell  upon  the 
road,  the  thick  foliage  of  the  trees.  The  blast  was 
gathering  at  Shadrach  Furnace.  A  clear,  almost 
smokeless  flame  rose  from  the  stack  against  the 
night-blue  sky.  It  illuminated  the  rectangular, 
stone  structure  of  the  coal-house  on  the  hill,  and 
showed  the  wet  and  blackened  roof  of  the  casting 
shed  below.  The  flame  dwindled  and  then  mounted, 
hanging  like  a  fabulous  oriflamme  on  a  stillness  in 
which  Howat  Penny  could  hear  the  blast  forced 
through  the  Furnace  by  the  great  leather  bellows. 

He  turned  in,  over  the  littered  ground  before  the 
Gilkan  house.  Fanny  was  standing  in  the  doorway, 
her  straight,  vigorous  body  sharp  against  the  glow 
inside.  "  Here's  Mr.  Howat  Penny,"  she  called  over 
her  shoulder.  "  Is  everything  off  the  table  ? 
There's  not  much,"  she  turned  to  him,  "  but  the  end 
of  the  pork  barrel."  A  meagre  fire  was  burning  in 
the  large,  untidy  hearth;  battered  tin  ovens  had 
been  drawn  aside,  and  a  pair  of  wood-soled  shoes 
were  drying.  The  rough  slab  of  the  table,  pushed 
back  against  a  long  seat  made  of  a  partly  hewed 

9 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

and  pegged  log,  was  empty  but  for  some  dull  scarred 
pewter  and  scraps  of  salt  meat.  On  the  narrow 
stair  that  led  above,  a  small,  touselled  form  was 
sleeping  —  one  of  the  cast  boys  at  the  Furnace. 

A  thin,  peering  woman  in  a  hickory-dyed  wool 
dress  moved  forward  obsequiously.  "  Mr.  Penny !  " 
she  echoed  the  girl's  announcement ;  "  and  here  I 
haven't  got  a  thing  fit  for  you.  Thomas  Gilkan  has 
been  too  busy  to  get  out,  and  Fanny  she'll  fetch 
nothing  unless  the  mood's  on  her.  If  I  only  had  a 
fish  I  could  turn  over."  She  brushed  the  end  of  the 
table  with  a  frayed  sleeve.  "  You  might  just  take 
a  seat,  and  I'll  look  around." 

Fanny  Gilkan  listened  to  her  mother  with  a  com- 
prehending smile.  Fanny's  face  was  gaunt,  but  her 
grey  eyes  were  wide  and  compelling,  her  mouth  was 
firm  and  bright;  and  her  hair,  her  father  often  said, 
resembled  the  fire  at  the  top  of  Shadrach.  Howat 
knew  that  she  was  as  impersonal,  as  essentially  un- 
stirred, as  himself;  but  he  had  a  clear  doubt  of  Mrs. 
Gilkan.  The  latter  was  too  anxious  to  welcome  him 
to  their  unpretending  home;  she  obviously  moved  to 
throw  Fanny  and  himself  together,  and  to  disparage 
such  suits  as  honest  Dan  Hesa's.  He  wondered  if 
the  older  woman  thought  he  might  marry  her  daugh- 
ter. And  wondering  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  other  thing  would  please  the  mother  almost  as 
well.  She  had  given  him  to  understand  that  at 
Fanny's  age  she  would  know  how  to  please  any  Mr. 
Howat  Penny  that  chance  fortune  might  bring  her. 
10 


THE  FURNACE 


That  some  such  worldly  advice  had  been  poured 
into  Fanny's  ears  he  could  not  doubt ;  and  he  ad- 
mired the  girl's  obvious  scorn  of  such  wiles  and  sur- 
renders. She  sat  frankly  beside  him  now,  as  he 
finished  a  wretched  supper,  and  asked  about  the 
country  in  regions  to  which  she  had  not  penetrated. 
"  It's  a  three  days'  trip,"  he  finished  a  recital  of 
an  excursion  of  his  own. 

"  I'd  like  to  go,"  she  returned ;  "  but  I  suppose  I 
couldn't  find  it  alone." 

He  was  considering  the  possibility  of  such  a  jour- 
ney with  her  —  it  would  be  pleasant  in  the  extreme 
—  when  her  mother  interrupted  them  from  the  foot 
of  the  stair. 

"  A  sensible  girl,"  she  declared,  "  would  think 
about  seeing  the  sights  of  a  city,  and  of  a  cherry- 
derry  dress  with  ribbons,  instead  of  all  this  about 
tramping  off  through  the  woods  with  a  ragged  skirt 
about  your  naked  knees." 

Fanny  Gilkan's  face  darkened,  and  she  glanced 
swiftly  at  Howat  Penny.  He  was  filling  a  pipe,  un- 
moved. Such  a  trip  as  he  had  outlined,  with  Fanny, 
was  fastening  upon  his  thoughts.  It  would  at  once 
express  his  entire  attitude  toward  the  world,  opin- 
ion, and  the  resentful  charcoal  burners. 

"  You  wouldn't  really  go,"  he  said  aloud,  half 
consciously. 

The  girl  frowned  in  an  effort  of  concentration, 
gazing  into  the  thin  light  of  the  dying  fire  and  two 
watery  tallow  dips.  Her  coarsely  spun  dress,  col- 

11 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


cured  with  sassafras  bark  and  darker  than  the  yel- 
low hickory  stain,  drew  about  her  fine  shoulders  and 
full,  plastic  breast.  "  I'd  like  it,"  she  repeated ; 
"  but  afterward.  There  is  father  — " 

She  had  said  father,  but  Howat  Penny  determined 
that  she  was  thinking  of  Dan  Hesa;  Dan  was  as 
strong  as  himself,  if  heavier;  a  personable  young 
man.  He  would  make  a  good  husband.  But  that, 
he  added,  was  in  the  future;  Dan  Hesa  apparently 
didn't  want  to  marry  Fanny  to-morrow,  that  week. 
Meanwhile  a  trip  with  him  to  the  headwaters  of  a 
creek  would  not  injure  her  in  the  least.  His  con- 
tempt of  a  world  petty  and  iron-bound  in  endless 
pretence,  fanning  his  smouldering  and  sullen  resent- 
ment in  general,  flamed  out  in  a  determination  to 
take  her  with  him  if  possible.  It  would  conclusively 
define,  state,  his  attitude  toward  "  men  herding  like 
cattle."  He  did  not  stop  to  consider  what  it  might 
define  for  Fanny  Gilkan.  In  the  stir  of  his  rebel- 
lious self  there  was  no  pause  for  vicarious  approxi- 
mations. If  he  thought  of  her  at  all  it  was  in  the 
indirect  opinion  that  she  was  better  without  such 
a  noodle  as  Dan  Hesa  threatened  to  become. 

"  I'd  get  two  horses  from  the  Forge,"  he  contin- 
ued, apparently  to  his  mildly  speculative  self ;  "  a 
few  things,  not  much  would  be  necessary.  That 
gun  you  carry,"  he  addressed  Fanny  indirectly,  "  is 
too  heavy.  I'll  get  you  a  lighter,  bound  in  brass." 

She  repeated  sombrely,  leaning  with  elbows  on  the 
table,  her  chin  in  her  hands,  "  And  afterwards  — " 
12 


THE  FURNACE 


"  I  thought  you  were  free  of  that,"  he  observed; 
"  it  sounds  like  the  town  women,  the  barnyard  crowd. 
I  thought  you  were  an  independent  person.  Cer- 
tainly," he  went  on  coldly,  "  you  can't  mistake  my 
attitude.  I  like  you,  but  I  am  not  in  the  least 
interested  in  any  way  that  —  that  your  mother 
might  appreciate.  I  am  neither  a  seducer  nor  the 
type  that  marries." 

"  I  understand  that,  Howat,"  she  assured  him ; 
"  and  I  think,  I'm  not  sure  but  I  think,  that  what 
you  mean  wouldn't  bother  me  either.  Anyhow  it 
shouldn't  spoil  the  fun  of  our  trip.  But  no  one  else 
in  the  world  would  believe  that  simple  truth.  If 
you  could  stay  there,  in  those  splendid  woods  or  a 
world  like  them,  why,  it  would  be  heaven.  But  you 
have  to  come  back,  you  have  to  live  on,  perhaps  for 
a  great  while,  in  the  world  of  Shadrach  and  Myrtle 
Forge.  I'm  not  sure  that  I'd  refuse  if  you  asked 
me  to  go,  Howat.  I  just  don't  know  if  a  woman 
can  stand  alone,  for  that's  what  it  would  come  to 
afterward,  against  a  whole  lifeful  of  mis  judgment. 
It  might  be  better  in  the  end,  for  everybody,  if  she 
continued  home,  made  the  best  of  things  with  the 
others." 

"  You  may  possibly  be  right,"  he  told  her  with  a 
sudden  resumption  of  indifference.  After  all,  it  was 
unimportant  whether  or  not  Fanny  Gilkan  went  with 
him  to  the  source  of  the  stream  he  had  discovered. 
Every  one,  it  became  more  and  more  evident,  was 
alike,  monotonous.  He  wondered  again,  lounging 

IS 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


back  against  the  wall,  about  the  French  forts,  out- 
posts in  a  vast  wilderness.  There  was  an  increasing 
friction  between  the  Province  and  France,  the  legacy 
of  King  George's  War,  but  Howat  Penny's  alle- 
giance to  place  was  as  conspicuous  by  its  absence 
as  the  other  communal  traits.  Beside  that,  beyond 
Kaskaskia,  at  St.  Xavier  and  the  North,  there  was 
little  thought  of  French  or  English;  the  sheer  prob- 
lem of  existence  there  drowned  other  considerations. 
He  would,  he  thought,  go  out  in  the  spring  .  .  . 
leave  Myrtle  Forge  with  its  droning  anvil,  the  end- 
less, unvaried  turning  of  water  wheel,  and  the  facile, 
trivial  chatter  in  and  about  the  house.  David  For- 
sythe,  back  from  England  in  the  capacity  of  master 
of  fluxing  metals,  might  acquire  his,  Howat's,  inter- 
est in  the  Penny  iron. 

Fanny  Gilkan  said,  "  You'll  burn  a  hole  in  your 
coat  with  that  pipe."  He  roused  himself,  and  she 
moved  across  the  room  and  pinched  the  smoking 
wicks.  The  embers  on  the  hearth  had  expired,  and 
the  fireplace  was  a  sooty,  black  cavern.  Fanny,  at 
the  candles,  was  the  only  thing  clearly  visible;  the 
thin  radiance  slid  over  the  turn  of  her  cheek;  her 
hovering  hand  was  like  a  cut-paper  silhouette.  It 
was  growing  late;  Thomas  Gilkan  would  soon  be 
back  from  the  Furnace ;  he  must  go.  Howat  had  no 
will  to  avoid  Gilkan,  but  the  thought  of  the  neces- 
sary conversational  exchange  wearied  him. 

The  sound  of  footsteps  approached  the  house 
from  without;  it  was,  he  thought,  slightly  annoyed, 
14 


THE  FURNACE 


the  founderman ;  but  the  progress  deflected  by  the 
door,  circled  to  a  window  at  the  side.  A  voice 
called  low  and  urgent,  "  Seemy !  Seemy !  "  It  was 
repeated,  and  there  was  an  answering  mutter  from 
the  stair,  a  thick  murmur  and  a  deep  sigh. 

The  cast  boy  slipped  crumpled  and  silent  in  bare 
feet  across  the  floor.  "  Yes,"  he  called  back,  rap- 
idly waking. 

The  voice  from  without  continued,  "  They're  go- 
ing to  start  up  the  Oley." 

"  What  is  it?  "  Fanny  demanded. 

"  The  raccoon  dogs,"  the  boy  paused  at  the  door. 
"  A  lot  of  the  f urnacemen  and  woodcutters  from 
round  about  are  hunting." 

Fanny  Gilkan  leaned  across  the  table  to  Howat, 
her  face  glowing  with  interest.  "  Come  ahead,"  she 
urged ;  "  we  can  do  this  anyhow.  I  like  to  hear  the 
dogs  yelping,  and  follow  them  through  the  night. 
You  can  bring  your  gun,  I'll  leave  mine  back,  and 
perhaps  we'll  get  something  really  big." 

Howat  himself  responded  thoroughly  to  such  an 
expedition ;  to  the  mystery  of  the  primitive  woods, 
doubly  withdrawn  in  the  dark ;  the  calls  of  the  oth- 
ers, near  or  far,  or  completely  lost  in  a  silence  of 
stars ;  the  still  immensity  of  a  land  unguessed,  myth- 
ical —  endless  trees,  endless  mountains,  endless  riv- 
ers with  their  headwaters  buried  in  arctic  countries 
beyond  human  experience,  and  emptying  into  the 
miraculous  blue  and  gilded  seas  of  the  tropics. 

Fanny  Gilkan  would  follow  the  dogs  closely,  too, 

15 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


with  infinite  swing  and  zest.  She  knew  the  country 
better  than  himself,  better  almost  than  any  one  else 
at  the  Furnace.  He  stirred  at  her  urgency,  and 
she  caught  his  arm,  dragging  him  from  behind  the 
table.  She  tied  a  linsey-woolsey  jacket  by  its  arms 
about  her  waist,  and  put  out  the  candles.  Outside 
the  blast  was  steadily  in  progress  at  the  stack;  the 
clear  glow  of  the  flame  shifted  over  the  near-by 
walls,  glinted  on  the  new  yellow  of  more  distant  foli- 
age, fell  in  sharp  or  blurred  traceries  against  the 
surrounding  night. 

They  could  hear  the  short,  impatient  yelps  of  the 
dogs;  but,  before  they  reached  them,  the  hunt 
was  away.  A  lantern  flickered  far  ahead,  a  minute 
blur  vanishing  through  files  of  trees.  Fanny  turned 
to  the  right,  mounting  an  abrupt  slope  thickly 
wooded  toward  the  crown.  A  late  moon,  past  full, 
shed  an  unsteady  light  through  interlaced  boughs, 
matted  grape  vines,  creepers  flung  from  tree  to  tree ; 
it  shone  on  a  hurrying  rill,  a  bright  thread  drawn 
through  the  brush.  Fanny  Gilkan  jumped  lightly 
from  bank  to  bank.  She  made  her  way  with  lithe 
ease  through  apparently  unbroken  tangles.  It  was 
Fanny  who  went  ahead,  who  waited  for  Howat  to 
follow  across  a  fallen  trunk  higher  than  his  waist. 
She  even  mocked  him  gaily,  declared  that,  through 
his  slowness,  they  were  hopelessly  losing  the  hunt. 

However,  the  persistent  barking  of  the  dogs  con- 
trived to  draw  them  on.  They  easily  passed  the 
stragglers,  left  a  group  gathered  about  a  lantern 
16 


and  a  black  bottle.  They  caught  up  to  the  body  of 
men,  but  preferred  to  follow  a  little  outside  of  the 
breathless  comments  and  main,  stumbling  progress. 
They  stirred  great  areas  of  pigeons  and  countless  in- 
different coveys  of  partridges  barely  moved  to  avoid 
the  swiftly  falling  feet.  But  no  deer  crossed  near 
them,  and  the  crashing  of  a  heavy  animal  through 
the  bushes  diminished  into  such  a  steep  gulley  that 
they  relinquished  thought  of  pursuit.  The  chase 
continued  for  an  unusual  distance;  the  moon  sank 
into  the  far,  unbroken  forest;  the  stars  brightened 
through  the  darkest  hour  of  the  night. 

Fanny  Gilkan  and  Howat  proceeded  more  slowly 
now,  but  still  they  went  directly,  without  hesitation, 
in  the  direction  they  chose.  They  crossed  a  log 
felled  over  a  shallow,  hurrying  creek;  the  course 
grew  steeper,  more  densely  wooded.  "  Ruscomb 
Manor,"  Fanny  pronounced  over  her  shoulder. 
"  Since  a  long  way  back,"  he  agreed.  Finally  a 
sharper,  stationary  clamour  announced  that  the  ob- 
ject of  the  hunt  had  been  achieved,  and  a  raccoon 
treed.  They  made  their  way  to  the  dim  illumina- 
tion cast  on  moving  forms  and  a  ring  of  dogs  throw- 
ing themselves  upward  at  the  trunk  of  a  tree.  There 
was  a  concerted  cry  for  "  Ebo,"  and  a  wizened,  grey 
negro  in  a  threadbare  drugget  coat  with  a  scarlet 
handkerchief  about  his  throat  came  forward  and, 
kicking  aside  the  dogs,  commenced  the  ascent  of  the 
smooth  trunk  that  swept  up  to  the  obscure  foliage 
above.  There  was  a  short  delay,  tlien  a  violent  agi- 

17 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


tation  of  branches.  A  clawing  shape  shot  to  the 
ground,  struggled  to  its  feet,  but  the  raccoon  was 
instantly  smothered  in  a  snarling  pyramid  of  dogs. 

Howat  Penny  was  overwhelmingly  weary.  He 
had  tramped  all  day,  since  before  morning;  while 
now  another  dawn  was  approaching,  and  the  hunters 
were  at  least  ten  miles  from  the  Furnace.  He  would 
have  liked  to  stay,  sleep,  where  he  was;  but  the 
labour  of  preparing  a  proper  resting  place  would 
be  as  great  as  returning  to  Shadrach.  Besides, 
Fanny  Gilkan  was  with  him,  with  her  new,  cautious 
regard  for  the  world's  opinion.  They  stood  silent 
for  a  moment,  under  a  fleet  dejection  born  of  the 
hour  and  a  cold,  seeping  mist  of  which  he  became 
suddenly  conscious.  The  barrel  of  his  gun  was 
wet,  and  instinctively  he  wiped  off  the  lock.  Two 
men  passing  brushed  heavily  against  him  and 
stopped.  "  Who  is  it,"  one  demanded,  "  John  Ra- 
jennas?  By  God,  it's  a  long  way  back  to  old  Shad- 
rach with  splintering  shoes."  A  face  drew  near 
Howat,  and  then  retreated.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Penny !  I 
didn't  know  you  were  up  on  the  hunt."  It  was,  he 
recognized,  one  of  the  coaling  men  who  worked  for 
Dan  Hesa.  The  other  discovered  Fanny  Gilkan. 
"  And  Fanny,  too,"  the  voice  grew  inimical.  The 
men  drew  away,  and  a  sharp  whispering  fluctuated 
out  of  the  darkness. 

"  Come,"  Howat  Penny  said  sharply ;  "  we  must 
get  back  or  stay  out  here  for  the  rest  of  the  night. 
I  don't  mind  admitting  I'd  like  to  be  where  I  could 
18 


THE  FURNACE 


sleep."  She  moved  forward,  now  tacitly  taking  a 
place  behind  him,  and  he  led  the  return,  tramping 
doggedly  in  the  shortest  direction  possible. 

The  hollows  and  stream  beds  were  filled  with 
the  ghostly  mist,  and  bitterly  chill;  the  night  paled 
slightly,  diluted  with  grey;  there  was  a  distant 
clamour  of  crows.  They  entered  the  Furnace  tract 
by  a  path  at  the  base  of  the  rise  from  where  they 
had  started.  On  the  left,  at  a  crossing  of  roads, 
one  leading  to  Myrtle  Forge,  the  other  a  track  for 
the  charcoal  sleds,  a  blacksmith's  open  shed  held  a 
faint  smoulder  on  the  hearth.  The  blast  from  Shad- 
rach  Furnace  rose  perpendicular  in  the  still  air. 

Fanny  Gilkan  slipped  away  with  a  murmur. 
Howat  abandoned  all  thought  of  returning  to  Myr- 
tle Forge  that  night.  But  it  was,  he  corrected  the 
conclusion,  morning.  The  light  was  palpable;  he 
could  see  individual  trees,  the  bulk  of  the  cast-house, 
built  directly  against  the  Furnace;  in  the  illusive 
radiance  the  coal  house  on  the  hill  seemed  poised  on 
top  of  the  other  structures.  A  lantern  made  a  red- 
dish blur  in  the  cast-house;  it  was  warm  in  there 
when  a  blast  was  in  progress,  and  he  determined  to 
sleep  at  once. 

Thomas  Gilkan,  with  a  fitful  light,  was  testing 
the  sealing  clay  on  the  face  of  the  Furnace  hearth; 
two  men  were  rolling  out  the  sand  for  the  cast  over 
the  floor  of  the  single,  high  interior,  and  another  was 
hammering  on  a  wood  form  used  for  stamping  the 
pig  moulds.  The  interior  was  soothing;  the  lights, 

19 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


blurred  voices,  the  hammering,  seemed  to  retreat,  to 
mingle  with  the  subdued,  smooth  clatter  of  the  turn- 
ing wheel  without,  the  rhythmic  collapse  of  the  bel- 
lows. Howat  Penny  was  losing  consciousness  when 
an  apparently  endless,  stuttering  blast  arose  close 
by.  He  cursed  splenetically.  It  was  the  horn,  call- 
ing the  Furnace  hands  for  the  day ;  and  he  knew  that 
it  would  continue  for  five  minutes. 

Others  had  entered ;  a  little  group  gathered  about 
Thomas  Gilkan's  waning  lantern.  Far  above  them  a 
window  glimmered  against  the  sooty  wall.  Howat 
saw  that  Dan  Hesa  was  talking  to  Gilkan,  driving 
in  his  words  by  a  fist  smiting  a  broad,  hard  palm. 
The  group  shifted,  and  the  countenance  of  the  man 
who  had  recognized  Howat  Penny  in  the  woods  swam 
into  the  pale  radiance.  His  lassitude  swiftly  de- 
serted him,  receding  before  the  instant  resentment 
always  lying  at  the  back  of  his  sullen  intolerance  — 
they  were  discussing  him,  mouthing  some  foul  impu- 
tation about  the  past  night.  Hesa  left  the  cast- 
house  abruptly,  followed  by  the  charcoal  burner ;  and 
Howat  rose,  the  length  of  his  rifle  thrust  forward 
under  his  arm,  and  walked  deliberately  forward. 

The  daylight  was  increasing  rapidly;  and,  as  he 
approached,  Thomas  Gilkan  extinguished  the  flame 
of  the  lantern.  He  was  a  small  man,  with  a  face 
parched  by  the  heat  of  the  furnace,  and  a  narrowed, 
reddened  vision  without  eyebrows  or  lashes.  He  was, 
Howat  had  heard,  an  unexcelled  founder,  a  position 
of  the  greatest  importance  to  the  quality  of  metal 
20 


THE  FURNACE 


run.  There  was  a  perceptible  consciousness  of  this 
in  the  manner  in  which  Gilkan  moved  forward  to 
meet  Gilbert  Penny's  son. 

"  I  don't  want  to  give  offence,"  the  founderman 
said,  "  but,  Mr.  Penny,  sir  — "  he  stopped,  com- 
menced again  without  the  involuntary  mark  of  re- 
spect. "  Mr.  Penny,  stay  away  from  my  house. 
There  is  more  that  I  could  say  but  I  won't.  That 
is  all ' —  keep  out  of  my  place.  No  names,  please." 

Howat  Penny's  resentment  swelled  in  a  fiery  anger 
at  the  stupidity  that  had  driven  Thomas  Gilkan  into 
making  his  request.  A  sense  of  humiliation  con- 
tributed to  an  actual  fury,  the  bitterer  for  the 
reason  that  he  could  make  no  satisfactory  reply. 
Gilkan  was  a  f reedman ;  while  he  was  occupying  a 
dwelling  at  Shadrach  Furnace  it  was  his  to  conduct 
as  he  liked.  Howat's  face  darkened  —  the  meagre 
fool!  He  would  see  that  there  was  another  head 
founder  here  within  a  week. 

But  there  were  many  positions  in  the  Province 
for  a  man  of  Gilkan's  ability,  there  were  few  work- 
men of  his  sensitive  skill  with  the  charge  and  blast. 
Not  only  Howat's  father,  but  Abner  Forsythe  as 
well,  would  search  to  the  end  all  cause  for  the  foun- 
derman's  leaving.  And,  in  consequence  of  that,  any 
detestable  misunderstanding  must  increase.  He  de- 
termined, with  an  effort  unaccustomed  and  arduous, 
to  ignore  the  other;  after  all  Gilkan  was  but  an  in- 
significant mouthpiece  for  the  familiar  ineptitude  of 
the  world  at  large.  Thomas  Gilkan  might  continue 

SI 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


at  the  Furnace  without  interference  from  him ; 
Fanny  marry  her  stupid  labourer.  Howat  had 
seen  symptoms  of  that  last  night.  He  would  no 
longer  complicate  her  existence  with  avenues  of  es- 
cape from  a  monotony  which  she  patently  elected. 

"  Very  well,  Gilkan,"  he  agreed  shortly,  choking 
on  his  wrath.  He  turned  and  tramped  shortly 
from  the  interior.  A  sudden,  lengthening  sunlight 
bathed  the  open  and  a  sullen  group  of  charcoal  burn- 
ers about  Dan  Hesa.  Their  faces  seemed  ebonized 
by  the  grinding  in  of  particles  of  blackened  wood. 
Some  women,  even,  in  gay,  primitive  clothes,  stood 
back  of  the  men.  As  Howat  passed,  a  low,  hostile 
murmur  rose.  He  halted,  and  met  them  with  a 
dark,  contemptuous  countenance,  and  the  murmur 
died  in  a  shuffling  of  feet  in  the  dry  grass.  He 
turned  again,  and  walked  slowly  away,  when  a 
broken  piece  of  rough  casting  hurtled  by  his  head. 
In  an  overpowering  rage  he  whirled  about,  throwing 
his  rifle  to  his  shoulder.  A  man  detached  from  the 
group  was  lowering  his  arm ;  and,  holding  the  sights 
hard  on  the  other's  metal-buttoned,  twill  jacket, 
Howat  pulled  the  trigger.  There  was  only  an  an- 
swering dull,  ineffectual  click. 

The  rifle  slid  to  the  ground,  and  Howat  stared, 
fascinated,  at  the  man  he  had  attempted  to  kill. 
The  charcoal  burners  were  stationary  before  the 
momentary  abandon  of  Howat  Penny's  temper. 
"  Right  at  me,"  the  man  articulated  who  had  been 
so  nearly  shot  into  oblivion.  " — saw  the  hammer 
22 


THE  FURNACE 


fall."  A  tremendous  desire  to  escape  possessed 
Howat ;  a  violent  chill  overtook  him ;  his  knees 
threatened  the  loss  of.  all  power  to  hold  him  up. 
He  stepped  backward,  his  gun  stock  trailing  over 
the  inequalities  of  the  ground;  then  he  swung  about, 
and,  in  an  unbroken  silence,  stumbled  away. 

He  was  not  running  from  anything  the  charcoal 
burner  might  say,  do,  but  from  a  terrifying  spec- 
tacle of  himself;  from  the  vision  of  a  body  shot 
through  the  breast,  huddled  in  the  sere  underbrush. 
He  was  aghast  at  the  unsuspected  possibility  re- 
vealed, as  it  were,  out  of  a  profound  dark  by  the 
searing  flash  of  his  anger,  cold  at  the  thought  of 
such  absolute  self-betrayal.  Howat  saw  in  fancy 
the  bald  triumph  of  a  society  to  which  his  act  con- 
summated would  have  delivered  him ;  a  society  that, 
as  his  peer,  would  have  judged,  condemned,  him. 
Hundreds  of  faces  —  faces  mean,  insignificant,  or 
pock-marked  —  merged  into  one  huge,  dominant 
countenance;  hundreds  of  bodies,  unwashed  or  foul 
with  disease,  or  meticulously  clean,  joined  in  one 
body,  clothed  in  the  black  robe  of  delegated  author- 
ity, and  loomed  above  him,  gigantic  and  absurd  and 
powerful,  and  brought  him  to  death.  Deeper  than 
his  horror,  than  any  fear  of  physical  consequences, 
lay  the  instinctive  shrinking  from  the  obliteration  of 
his  individual  being,  the  loss  of  personal  freedom. 


23 


II 

HE  was  possessed  by  an  unaccustomed  desire 
to  be  at  Myrtle  Forge;  usually  it  was  the 
contrary  case,  and  he  was  escaping  from 
the  complicated  civilisation  of  his  home ;  but  now  the 
well-ordered  house,  the  serenity  of  his  room,  appeared 
astonishingly  inviting.  Howat  progressed  rapidly 
past  the  smithy,  and  turned  to  the  right,  about  the 
Furnace  dam,  a  placid  and  irregular  reach  of  water 
holding  the  reflection  of  the  trees  on  a  mirror  still 
dulled  by  a  vanishing  trace  of  mist,  above  which  the 
leaves  hung  in  the  motionless  air,  in  the  aureate 
wash  of  the  early  sun,  as  if  they  had  been  pressed 
from  gold  foil.  Beyond  the  dam  the  path  —  he  had 
left  the  road  that  connected  Forge  and  Furnace 
for  a  more  direct  way  —  followed  the  broad,  rip- 
pling course  of  the  Canary,  the  stream  that  supplied 
the  life  of  Myrtle  Forge.  He  automatically  avoided 
the  breaks  in  the  rough  trail ;  his  mind,  a  dark  and 
confused  chamber,  still  lighted  by  appalling  flashes 
of  memory.  A  thing  as  slight,  as  incalculable,  as  a 
loose  flint  had  been  all  that  prevented  .  .  .  He 
wondered  if  Fanny  and  Thomas  Gilkan  were  right 
in  their  shared  conviction;  Fanny  half  persuaded, 
but  the  elder  with  a  finality  stamped  with  an  accent 
of  the  heroic.  Whether  or  not  they  were  right 
24 


THE  FURNACE 


didn't  concern  him,  he  decided ;  his  only  problem  was 
to  keep  outside  all  such  entanglements.  And  at 
present  he  wanted  to  sleep. 

The  path  left  the  creek  and  joined  the  road  that 
swept  about  the  face  of  the  dwelling  at  Myrtle 
Forge.  The  lawn,  squarely  raised  from  the  public 
way  by  a  low  brick  terrace,  showed  the  length  of 
house  behind  the  dipping,  horizontal  branches,  the 
beginning,  pale  gold,  of  a  widespread  beech.  It  was 
a  long  structure  of  but  two  stories,  built  solidly  out 
of  a  dark,  flinty  stone  with  an  indefinite  pinkish  glow 
against  the  lush  sod  and  sombre,  flat  greenery  of  a 
young  English  ivy  about  a  narrow,  stiff  portico. 

Howat  crossed  the  lawn  above  the  house,  where 
a  low  wing,  holding  the  kitchen  and  pantries,  ex- 
tended at  right  angles  from  the  dwelling's  length. 
A  shed  with  a  flagging  of  broad  stones  lay  inside  the 
angle,  where  a  robust  girl  with  an  ozenbrigs  skirt 
caught  up  on  bare  legs  and  feet  thrust  into  wooden 
clogs  was  scrubbing  a  steaming  line  of  iron  pots. 
He  quickly  entered  the  centre  hall  from  a  rear  door, 
and  mounted,  as  he  hoped,  without  interruption  to 
his  room.  That  interior  was  singularly  restful, 
pleasant,  after  the  confused  and  dishevelling  night, 

The  sanded  floor,  patterned  with  a  broom,  held  no 
carpet,  nor  were  the  walls  covered,  but  white  and 
bare  save  for  a  number  of  small,  framed  engravings 
—  a  view  of  Boston  Harbour,  Queene  Anne's  Tomb, 
and  some  black  line  satirical  portrait  prints.  A 
stone  fireplace,  ready  for  lighting,  had  iron  dogs  and 

25 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

fender,  and  a  screen  lacquered  in  flowery  wreaths  on 
a  slender  black  stem.  At  one  side  stood  a  hinge- 
bound  chest,  its  oak  panels  glassy  with  age;  on  the 
other,  an  English  set  of  drawers  held  a  mirror  stand 
and  scattered  trifles  —  razors  and  gold  sleeve-but- 
tons, a  Barcelona  handkerchief,  candlesticks  and 
flint,  a  twist  of  common,  pig-tail  tobacco ;  while  from 
a  drawer  knob  hung  a  banian  of  bright  orange 
Chinese  silk  with  a  dark  blue  cord. 

By  the  side  of  his  curled  black  walnut  bed,  with- 
qut  drapery,  and  set,  like  a  French  couch,  low  on 
three  pairs  of  spiral  legs,  was  a  deep  cushioned  chair 
into  which  he  sank  and  dragged  off  his  sodden  buck- 
skin breeches.  The  room  wavered  and  blurred  in  his 
weary  vision  —  squat,  rush-bottomed  Dutch  chaira 
seemed  to  revolve  about  a  table  with  apparently  a 
hundred  legs,  a  bearskin  floated  across  the  floor  .  .  . 
He  secured  the  banian ;  and,  swathing  himself  in  its 
cool,  sibilant  folds,  he  fell,  his  face  hid  in  an  angle  of 
his  arm,  into  an  immediate  profound  slumber. 

The  shadows  of  late  afternoon  were  once  more 
gathering  when  he  woke.  He  lay,  with  hands 
clasped  behind  his  head,  watching  a  roseate  glow  dis- 
perse from  the  room.  From  without  came  the  faint, 
clear  voice  of  Marta  Appletofft,  across  the  road  at 
the  farm,  calling  the  chickens ;  and  he  could  hear  the 
querulous  whistling  of  the  partridges  that  invari- 
ably deserted  the  fringes  of  forest  to  join  the  do- 
mesticated flocks  at  feed  time.  A  sense  of  well-being 
flooded  him;  the  project  of  St.  Xavier,  the  French 
26 


forts,  drew  far  away;  never  before  had  he  found 
Myrtle  Forge  so  desirable.  He  was,  he  thought, 
growing  definitely  older.  He  was  twenty-five. 

A  light  knock  fell  on  his  door,  and  he  answered 
comfortably,  thinking  that  it  was  his  mother.  But 
it  was  Caroline,  his  oldest  sister.  "  How  you  have 
slept,"  she  observed,  closing  the  door  at  her  back ; 
"  it  was  hardly  nine  when  you  came  in,  and  here  it 
is  five.  Mother  heard  you."  Caroline  Penny  was 
a  warm,  unbeautiful  girl  with  a  fine,  slender  body, 
two  years  younger  than  himself.  Her  colouring  was 
far  lighter  than  Howat's ;  she  had  sympathetic  hazel 
eyes,  an  inviting  mouth,  an  illusive  depression  in  one 
cheek  that  alone  saved  her  from  positive  ugliness, 
and  tobacco  brown  hair  worn  low  with  a  long,  turned 
strand.  She  had  on  a  pewter-coloured,  informal 
wrap  over  a  black  silk  petticoat,  lacking  hoops,  with 
a  cut  border  of  violet  and  silver  brocade ;  and  above 
low,  green  kid  stays  with  coral  tulip  blossoms 
worked  on  the  dark  velvet  of  foliage  were  glimpses  of 
webby  linen  and  frank,  young  flesh. 

She  came  to  the  edge  of  the  bed,  where  she  sat  with 
a  yellow  morocco  slipper  swinging  from  a  silk 
clocked,  narrow  foot.  He  liked  Caroline,  Howat 
lazily  thought.  Although  she  did  not  in  the  least 
resemble  their  mother  in  appearance  —  she  could  not 
pretend  to  such  distinction  of  being  —  Caroline  un- 
mistakably possessed  something  of  the  other's  per- 
sonality, far  more  than  did  Myrtle.  She  said  gen- 
erally, patently  only  delaying  for  the  moment  com- 

27 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

munications  of  much  greater  interest  than  himself, 
"  Where  were  you  last  night  ?  "  He  told  her,  and 
she  plunged  at  once  into  a  rich  store  of  information. 

"  Did  you  know  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Winscombe 
are  staying  on?  It's  so,  because  of  the  fever  in  the 
city.  David  and  his  father  stopped  all  night,  too, 
and  only  left  after  breakfast.  He's  insane  about 
London,  but  I  could  see  that  he's  glad  to  get  back 
to  the  Province.  Mr.  Forsythe  is  very  abrupt,  but 
ridiculously  proud  of  him  — " 

"  These  Winscombes,"  Howat  interrupted,  "  what 
about  them?  The  Forsythes  are  a  common  occur- 
rence." 

"  David's  been  gone  more  than  three  years,"  she 
replied.  "  And  you  should  hear  him  talk ;  he's  got 
a  coat  with  wired  tails  in  his  box  he's  dying  to  wear, 
but  is  afraid  of  his  father.  Oh,  the  Winscombes! 
Well,  he's  rather  sweet,  sixty  or  sixty-five  years  old ; 
very  straight  up  the  back,  and  wears  the  loveliest 
wigs.  His  servant  fixes  them  on  a  stand  —  he  turns 
the  curls  about  little  rolls  of  clay,  ties  them  with 
paper,  and  then  bakes  it  in  the  oven  like  a  pudding. 
The  servant  is  an  Italian  with  a  long  duck's  bill  of 
a  nose  and  quick  little  black  eyes.  He  makes  our 
negro  women  giggle  like  anything.  It's  evident  he 
is  fearfully  impertinent.  And,  what  do  you  think? 
—  he  hooks  Mrs.  Winscombe  into  her  stays! 
Mother  says  that  that  isn't  anything,  really;  Mrs. 
Winscombe  is  a  lady  of  the  court,  and  the  most 
extraordinary  happenings  go  on  there.  You  see, 
28 


THE  FURNACE 


mother  knows  a  lot  about  her  family,  and  it's  very 
good;  she's  part  Polish  and  part  English,  and  her 
name's  Ludowika.  She's  ages  younger  than  her 
husband. 

"  Myrtle  doesn't  like  her, — "  she  stopped  midway 
in  her  torrent  of  information.  "  I  came  in  to  talk 
to  you  about  Myrtle,"  she  went  on  in  a  different 
voice ;  "  that  is,  partly  about  Myrtle,  but  more  of 
myself  and  of — " 

"  How  long  are  the  others  going  to  stay  ?  "  he 
cut  in  heedlessly. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  again  repressed  her  own 
desire ;  "  perhaps  they  will  have  to  go  back  to  An- 
napolis —  don't  ask  me  why  —  but  they  hope  to 
sail  from  Philadelphia  in  a  week  or  so.  She  has 
marvellous  clothes,  and  I  asked  her  if  she  would  send 
me  some  babies  from  London.  You  know  what  they 
are,  Howat  —  little  wooden  dolls  to  show  off  the 
fashion;  but  she  made  a  harrowing  joke,  right  in 
front  of  father  and  Mrs.  Forsythe.  The  things  she 
says  are  just  beyond  description;  it  seems  that  it's 
all  right  to  talk  anyway  now  if  you  call  it  classic. 
And  she  has  fans  with  pictures  and  rhymes  on,  hon- 
estly — "  words  apparently  failed  her. 

Howat  laughed.  "  Little  Innocence,"  he  said. 
He  fell  silent,  thinking  of  their  mother.  The  court, 
he  knew,  had  been  her  right,  too,  by  birth;  and  he 
wondered  if,  with  the  reminder  of  Mrs.  Winscombe 
and  her  reflections  of  St.  James,  she  regretted  her 
marriage  and  removal  to  the  Province.  She  was 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


essentially  lady,  while  Gilbert  Penny  had  been  the 
son  of  a  small  country  squire.  He  had  seen  a  pro- 
file of  his  father  as  a  young  man,  at  the  time  he  had 
first  met  Isabel  Kingsfrere  Howat.  It  was  a  hand- 
some profile,  perhaps  a  shade  heavy,  but  admirably 
balanced  and  stamped  with  decisive  power.  He  had 
characteristically  invested  almost  his  last  shilling 
in  a  tract  of  eight  hundred  acres  in  Pennsylvania 
and  the  passage  of  himself  and  his  bride  to  the  Prov- 
ince. 

It  was  natural  for  men  so  to  adventure,  but  Howat 
thought  of  Isabel  Penny  with,  perhaps,  the  only 
marked  admiration  he  felt  for  any  being.  There 
had  been  a  period,  short  but  strenuous,  of  material 
difficulties,  in  which  the  girl  —  she  had  been  hardly 
a  woman  in  years  —  entirely  unprepared  for  such  a 
different  activity,  had  been  finely  competent  and 
courageous.  This  had  not  endured  long  because 
Gilbert  Penny  had  been  successful  almost  from  the 
first  day  of  his  landing  in  a  new  world.  Chance 
letters  had  enlisted  the  confidence  of  David  Forsythe, 
a  Quaker  merchant  of  property  and  increasing  im- 
portance ;  the  latter  became  a  part  owner  of  an  iron 
furnace  situated  not  far  from  the  Penny  holding; 
he  assisted  Gilbert  in  the  erection  of  a  forge ;  and  in 
less  than  twenty  years  Gilbert  Penny  had  grown  to 
be  a  half  proprietor  in  the  Furnace,  with  — 

"  Howat,"  Caroline  broke  in  on  his  thoughts 
sharply,  "  I  came  in,  as  I  said,  to  talk  about  some- 
thing very  important  to  me,  and  I  intend  to  do  it." 
30 


THE  FURNACE 


Even  after  that  decided  announcement  she  hesitated, 
a  deeper  colour  stained  her  clear  cheeks.  "  You 
mustn't  laugh  at  me,"  she  warned  him ;  "  or  think 
I'm  horrid.  I  can  talk  to  you  like  this  because  you 
seem  a  —  a  little  outside  of  things,  as  if  you  were 
looking  on  at  a  rather  poorly  done  play ;  and  you 
are  entirely  honest  yourself." 

He  nodded  condescendingly,  his  interest  at  last 
retrieved  from  the  contemplation  of  his  mother  as 
a  young  woman. 

"  It's  about  David,"  Caroline  stated  almost  de- 
fiantly. "  Howat,  I  think  I'm  very  fond  of  David. 
No,  you  mustn't  interrupt  me.  When  he  went  away 
I  liked  him  a  lot ;  but  now  that  he  is  back,  and  quite 
grown  up,  it's  more  than  liking  .  .  .  Howat.  His 
father  brought  him  out  here  right  away  he  re- 
turned, and  for  a  special  reason.  He  was  very 
direct  about  it ;  he  wants  David  to  marry  —  Myrtle. 
I  heard  father  —  yes,  I  listened  —  and  him  talking  it 
over,  and  our  old  darling  was  pleased  to  death.  It's 
natural,  Mr.  Forsythe  is  one  of  the  most  influential 
men  in  the  city ;  and  father  adores  Myrtle  more  than 
anything  else  in  the  world."  She  paused,  and  he 
studied  her  in  a  growing  wonder;  suddenly  she 
seemed  older,  her  mouth  was  drawn  in  a  hard  line: 
a  new  Caroline.  "  You  know  Myrtle,"  she  added. 

He  did,  and  considered  the  youngest  Penny  with 
a  new  objectivity.  Myrtle  was  an  extremely  pretty, 
even  a  beautiful  girl.  "  You  know  Myrtle,"  she 
repeated ;  "  and  why  father  is  so  blind  is  more  than 

31 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


I  can  understand.  She  doesn't  care  a  ribbon  for 
truth,  she  never  thinks  of  anything  but  her  own 
comfort  and  clothes,  and  —  and  she'd  make  David 
miserable.  Myrtle  simply  can't  fancy  anybody  but 
herself.  That's  very  different  from  me,  Howat;  or 
yourself.  You  would  be  a  burning  lover."  He 
laughed  incredulously.  "  And  I,  well,  I  know  what 
I  feel. 

"  It's  practically  made  up  for  David  to  marry 
Myrtle,  that  is,  to  urge  it  all  that's  possible ;  and  she 
will  never  care  for  him,  while  all  he  thinks  of  now 
is  how  good  looking  she  is.  I  want  David,  terri- 
bly," she  said,  sitting  erect  with  shut  hands ;  "  and 
I  will  be  expected  to  step  aside,  to  keep  out  of  the 
way  while  Myrtle  poses  at  him.  Oh,  I  know  all 
about  it.  I  see  her  rehearsing  before  the  glass.  Or 
I  will  be  expected  to  act  as  a  contrast,  a  plain  back- 
ground, for  Myrtle's  beauty. 

"  You  see,  there  is  no  one  I  can  talk  to  but  your- 
self. Even  mother  wouldn't  understand,  com- 
pletely; and  she  couldn't  be  honest  about  Myrtle. 
The  best  of  mothers,  after  all,  are  women;  and, 
Howat,  there  is  always  a  curious  formality  between 
women,  a  little  stiffness." 

"  Well,"  he  demanded,  "  what  do  you  want  me  to 
say,  or  what  did  you  think  I  might  do  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she   admitted,  her  eyes  bright 

with  unshed  tears.     "  I   suppose  I  just  wanted   a 

little  support,  or  even  some  encouragement.     I  don't 

propose  to  let  Myrtle  walk  off  with  David  and  not 

32 


THE  FURNACE 


turn  my  hand.  Of  course  I  am  not  a  beauty,  but 
then  I'm  not  a  ninny,  either.  And  I  have  a  prettier 
figure ;  that  is,  it  will  still  be  pretty  in  ten  or  fifteen 
years ;  Myrtle's  soft." 

"  Good  heavens,"  he  exclaimed,  half  serious, 
"  what  Indians  you  all  are !  " 

"  I'm  quite  shameless,"  she  admitted,  "  and  this 
is  really  what  I  thought  —  you  can,  perhaps,  help 
me  sometimes,  I  don't  know  how,  but  he  will  be  out 
here  a  lot,  men  talk  together  — " 

"  And  I  can  tell  him  that  Myrtle  is  an  utterly 
untrustworthy  person  who  would  make  him  ulti- 
mately miserable.  I'll  remind  him  that  her  beauty 
is  no  deeper  than  he  sees  it.  But  that  Caroline 
there,  admirable  girl,  seething  with  affection  in  a 
figure  warranted  against  time  or  accident  — "  her 
expression  brought  his  banter  to  an  end.  He 
studied  her  seriously,  revolved  what  she  had  said. 
She  was  right  about  Myrtle,  who  was  undoubtedly 
a  vain  and  silly  little  fish.  His  father's  immoderate 
admiration  for  her  had  puzzled  him  as  well  as  the 
elder  sister.  He  remembered  that  never  had  he 
heard  their  mother  express  a  direct  opinion  of  Myr- 
tle ;  but  neither  had  Isabel  Penny  shown  the  slightest 
question  of  her  husband's  high  regard  for  their 
youngest  child.  She  was,  he  realized  with  a  warm- 
ing of  his  admiration,  beautifully  cultivated  in  the 
wisdom  of  the  world. 

Caroline  was  vastly  preferable  to  Myrtle,  he  felt 
that  instinctively;  and  he  was  inclined  to  give  her 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


whatever  assistance  he  could.  But  this  would  be 
negligible,  and  he  said  so.  "  You  will  have  to  do 
the  trick  by  yourself,"  he  advised  her.  "  I  wouldn't 
pretend  to  tell  you  how.  As  you  said,  you're  not 
a  ninny.  And  Myrtle's  none  too  clever,  although 
she  will  manage  to  seem  so.  It's  wonderful  how 
she'll  pick  up  a  hint  or  two  and  make  a  show.  You 
see  —  she  will  be  talking  iron  to  David  as  if  she  had 
been  raised  in  a  furnace." 

"  Men  are  so  senseless ! "  Caroline  exclaimed  vi- 
ciously. She  rose.  "  It's  been  a  help  only  to  talk 
to  you,  Howat.  I  knew  you'd  understand.  Supper 
will  be  along  soon.  Make  yourself  into  a  charmer 
for  Mrs.  Winscombe.  I'm  certain  she  thinks  the 
men  out  here  are  frightful  hobs."  The  light  had 
dimmed  rapidly  in  the  room,  and  he  moved  over  to 
the  chest  of  drawers,  where  he  lit  the  candles,  set- 
tling over  them  their  tall,  carved  glass  cylinders. 


Ill 

HE  dressed  slowly,  all  that  Caroline  had  said, 
and  he  thought,  tangling  and  disentangling 
deliberately  in  his  mind.  Mrs.  Winscombe 
.  .  .  thinking  there  were  no  presentable  men  in  the 
Provinces.  His  hand  strayed  in  the  direction  of  a 
quince-coloured  satin  coat;  but  he  chose  instead  a 
commonplace,  dun  affair  with  pewter  buttons,  and 
carelessly  settled  his  shoulders  in  an  unremarkable 
waistcoat.  Then,  although  he  could  hear  a  con- 
certed stir  of  voices  below  that  announced  impend- 
ing supper,  he  slipped  into  a  chair  for  half  a  pipe. 
He  was  indifferent,  not  diffident,  and  there  was  no 
hesitation  in  the  manner  in  which  he  finally  ap- 
proached the  company  seated  at  supper.  His  place 
was,  as  usual,  at  his  mother's  side;  but  opposite 
him  where  Myrtle  usually  sat  was  a  rigid,  high  shoul- 
dered man  in  mulberry  and  silver,  jewelled  buckles, 
and  a  full,  powdered  wig.  He  had  thin,  dark  cheeks, 
a  heavy  nose  above  a  firm  mouth  with  a  satirical 
droop,  and  small,  unpleasantly  penetrating  eyes. 
An  expression  of  general  malice  was,  however,  cor- 
rected by  a  high  and  serene  brow. 

"  Mr.  Winscombe,"  Howat  Penny's  mother  said, 
"  my  son."     The  former  bowed  with  formal  civility, 

35 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


but  gave  a  baffling  effect  of  mockery  which,  Howat 
discovered,  enveloped  practically  every  movement 
and  speech.  He  was,  he  said,  enchanted  to  meet  Mr. 
Penny;  and  that  extravagant  expression,  delivered 
in  a  slightly  harsh,  negligent  voice,  heightened  the 
impression  of  a  personality  strong  and  cold ;  a  being 
as  obdurate  as  an  iron  bar  masquerading  in  coloured 
satin  and  formulating  pretty  phrases  like  the  sheen 
on  the  surface  of  a  deep  November  pool.  Gilbert 
Penny  echoed  the  introduction  at  the  other  end  of 
the  table. 

Howat  saw,  in  the  yellow  candlelight,  a  woman 
not,  he  decided,  any  better  looking  than  Caroline, 
in  an  extremely  low  cut  gown  of  scarlet,  with  a 
rigid  girdle  of  saffron  brocade,  a  fluted  tulle  ruff 
tied  with  a  scarlet  string  about  a  long,  slim  neck, 
and  a  cap  of  sheer  cambric  with  a  knot  of  black 
ribbons.  Her  eyes  were  widely  opened  and  dark, 
her  nose  short,  and  her  mouth  full  and  petulant. 
She,  too,  was  conventionally  adequate ;  but  her  in- 
sincerity was  clearer  than  her  husband's,  it  was  pro- 
nounced quickly,  in  an  impertinent  and  musical 
voice,  without  the  slightest  pretence  of  the  injection 
of  any  interest.  Howat  Penny  felt,  in  a  manner 
which  he  was  unable  to  place,  that  she  vaguely  re- 
sembled himself;  perhaps  it  lay  in  her  eyebrows 
slanting  slightly  toward  the  temples ;  but  it  was 
vaguer,  more  elusive,  than  that. 

He  considered  it  idly,  through  the  course  of  sup- 
per. At  intervals  he  heard  her  voice,  a  little,  high- 
36 


THE  FURNACE 


pitched  laugh  with  a  curious,  underlying  flatness: 
not  of  tone,  her  modulations  were  delicate  and  exact ; 
but  deeper.  Again  he  was  dimly  conscious  of  an 
aspect  of  her  which  eluded  every  effort  to  fix  and 
define.  He  could  not  even  comprehend  his  dwelling 
upon  the  immaterial  traits  of  a  strange  and  in- 
different woman;  he  was  at  a  loss  to  understand 
how  such  inquiries  assailed  him.  He  grew,  finally, 
annoyed,  and  shut  his  mind  to  any  further  con- 
sideration of  her. 

Mrs.  Penny  was  talking  with  charming  earnest- 
ness to  the  man  on  her  other  hand.  The  amber 
radiance  flickered  over  the  beautiful  curves  of  her 
shoulders  and  cast  a  warm  shadow  at  the  base  of  her 
throat.  She  smiled  at  her  son;  and  her  face,  in 
spite  of  its  present  gaiety,  held  a  definite  reminder 
of  her  years,  almost  fifty ;  but  when  she  turned  again 
her  profile,  with  slightly  tilted  nose  and  delightfully 
fresh  lips  and  chin,  was  that  of  a  girl  no  older  than 
Caroline.  Howat  had  often  noticed  this.  It  was 
amazing  —  with  that  slight  movement  she  would 
seem  to  lose  at  once  all  the  years  that  had  accumu- 
lated since  she  was  newly  married.  In  a  second  she 
would  appear  to  leave  them  all,  her  mature  children, 
the  heavy,  palpably  aging  presence  of  Gilbert  Penny, 
the  house  and  obligations  that  had  grown  about  her, 
and  be  remotely  young,  a  stranger  to  the  irrefutable 
proof  that  her  youth  had  gone.  At  such  moments 
he  was  almost  reluctant  to  claim  her  attention,  to 
bring  her  again,  as  it  were,  into  the  present,  with  so 

37 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


much  spent,  lapsed:  at  times  he  almost  thought,  in 
that  connection,  wasted. 

She  had,  in  adition  to  her  profile,  a  spirit  of 
youth  that  had  remained  undimmed;  as  if  there 
were  within  her  a  reserve  warmth,  a  priceless  gift, 
which  life  had  never  claimed;  and  it  was  the  con- 
templation of  that  which  gave  Howat  the  impression 
that  Isabel  Penny's  life  had  not  fully  flowered.  He 
had  never  known  her  to  express  a  regret  of  the  way 
she  had  taken;  he  had  never  even  surprised  her  in 
a  perceptible  retrospective  dejection;  but  the  con- 
viction remained.  Gilbert  Penny  had  been  an  almost 
faultless  husband,  tender  and  firm  and  successful ; 
but  his  wife  had  come  from  other  blood  and  neces- 
sities than  domestic  felicities ;  she  had  been  a  part  of 
a  super-cultivation,  a  world  of  such  niceties  as  the 
flawless  courtesy  of  Mr.  Winscombe  discussing  with 
her  the  unhappy  passion  of  the  Princess  Caroline 
for  Lord  Hervey. 

Howat  Penny  thought  sombrely  of  love,  of  the 
emotion  that  had  brought  —  or  betrayed?  —  Isabel 
Howat  so  far  away  from  her  birthright.  It  had 
gripped  his  sister  no  less  tyrannically ;  stripping 
them,  he  considered,  of  their  essential  liberty.  The 
thing  was  clear  enough  in  his  mind  —  nothing  more 
than  an  animal  instinct,  humiliating  to  the  human  in- 
dividual, to  breed.  It  was  the  mere  repetition  of  na- 
ture through  the  working  of  an  automatic  law.  No 
such  obscure  fate,  he  determined,  should  overtake, 
obliterate,  him.  Yet  it  had  involved  his  mother,  a 
38 


THE  FURNACE 


person  of  the  first  superiority.  A  slight  chill,  as  if 
a  breath  of  imminent  winter  had  touched  him,  com- 
municated itself  to  his  heart. 

A  trivial  conversation  was  in  progress  across  the 
table  between  Mrs.  Winscombe  and  Myrtle.  The 
latter  was  an  embodiment  of  the  familiar  Saxon  type 
of  beauty ;  her  hair  was  fair,  infinitely  pale  gold,  her 
complexion  a  delicately  mingled  crimson  and  white, 
her  eyes  as  candidly  blue  as  flowers.  Her  features 
were  finely  moulded,  and  her  shoulders,  slipping  out 
from  azure  lutestring,  were  like  smooth  handfuls  of 
meringue.  Her  voice  was  always  formal,  and  it 
sounded  stilted,  forced,  in  comparison  with  Mrs. 
Winscombe's  easy  periods. 

The  supper  ended,  and  the  company  trailed  into 
a  drawing  room  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  house 
from  the  kitchen  wing.  Howat  delayed,  and  Caro- 
line, urged  forward  by  Mr.  Winscombe's  sardoni- 
cally ubiquitous  bow,  half  lingered  to  cast  back  a 
glance  of  private  understanding  at  her  brother. 
When  he  decided  reluctantly  to  follow  he  was  kept 
back  by  the  sound  of  a  familiar  explanation  in  his 
father's  decisive,  full  tones. 

"  Howat,"  he  pronounced,  obviously  addressing 
the  elder  Winscombe,  "  is  a  black  Penny.  That  is 
what  we  call  them  in  our  family.  You  see,  the  Pen- 
nys,  some  hundreds  of  years  back,  acquired  a  strong 
Welsh  strain.  I  take  it  you  are  familiar  with  the 
Welsh  —  a  solitary-living,  dark  lot.  Unamenable 
to  influence,  reflect  their  country,  I  suppose;  but 

39 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


lovers  of  music.  I  have  a  touch  of  that.  Now  any 
one  would  think  that  such  a  blood,  so  long  ago, 
would  have  spread  out,  been  diluted,  in  a  thick  Eng- 
lish stock  like  the  Pennys ;  or  at  least  that  we  would 
all  have  had  a  little,  here  and  there.  But  nothing  of 
the  sort;  it  sinks  entirely  out  of  sight  for  two  or 
three  and  sometimes  four  generations ;  and  then 
appears  solid,  in  one  individual,  as  unslacked  as  the 
pure,  original  thing.  The  last  one  was  burned  as 
a  heretic  in  Mary's  day ;  although  I  believe  he  would 
have  equally  stayed  Catholic  if  the  affair  had  been 
the  other  way  around.  Opposition's  their  breath. 
This  boy—" 

"  You  must  not  figure  to  yourself,  Mr.  Wins- 
combe,"  Mrs.  Penny's  even  voice  admirably  cut  in, 
"  that  the  black  is  a  word  of  reproach.  I  think  we 
are  both  at  times  at  a  loss  with  Howat,  he  is  so  dif- 
ferent from  us,  from  the  girls ;  but  he  is  truly  re- 
markable. I  have  an  unusual  affection  for  him ; 
really,  his  honesty  is  extraordinary." 

He  ought,  he  knew,  either  follow  the  others  into 
the  drawing  room  or  move  farther  away.  His 
father's  explanation  repelled  him ;  but  his  mother's 
capital  defence  —  it  amounted  to  that  —  made  it 
evident  to  him  that  he  should,  by  his  presence,  give 
her  what  support  he  could. 

At  the  fireplace  Gilbert  Penny  was  lost  in  con- 
versational depths  with  Mr.  Winscombe.  About  the 
opening,  now  closed  for  the  introduction  of  a  hearth 
stove,  were  tiles  picturing  in  gay  glazes  the  pastoral 
40 


THE  FURNACE 


history  of  Ruth,  and  above  the  mantel  a  long,  clear 
mirror  held  a  similitude  of  brilliant  colour  —  the 
scarlet  of  Mrs.  Winscombe's  gown,  Myrtle's  azure 
lutestring  on  a  petticoat  of  ruffled  citron  spreading 
over  her  hoops  and  little  white  kid  slippers  with 
gilt  heels,  Caroline's  flowered  Chinese  silk.  The- 
room  was  large  and  square,  with  a  Turkey  floor  car- 
pet, and  walls  hung  with  paper  printed  in  lavender 
and  black  perspectives  from  copper  plates.  A  great 
many  candles  had  been  lighted,  on  tables  and  mantel, 
and  in  lacquer  stands.  One  of  the  latter,  at  Mrs. 
Winscombe's  side,  showed  her  features  clearly. 

Howat  Penny  saw  that  while  she  was  actually  no 
prettier  than  Caroline  she  was  infinitely  more  vivid 
and  compelling.  Her  face  held  an  extraordinary 
potency ;  her  bare  arms  and  shoulders  were  more  in- 
sistent than  his  sister's ;  there  was  about  her  a  con- 
sciousness of  the  allurement  of  body,  frankness  in  its 
employment.  She  made  no  effort  to  mask  her  feel- 
ing, which  at  present  was  one  of  complete  indif- 
ference to  her  surroundings;  and,  not  talking,  a 
shadow  hac  titled  on  her  vision.  Caroline  was 
seated  on  a  little  sofa  across  from  the  fireplace,  and 
she  moved  her  voluminous  skirt  aside,  made  a  place 
for  him. 

"  Almost  nothing  of  Annapolis,"  Mrs.  Winscombe 
replied  to  a  query  of  what  she  had  seen  in  Maryland. 
"  We  were  there  hardly  two  weeks,  and  I  hadn't  re- 
covered from  the  trip  across  the  sea.  When  I  think 
of  returning  God  knows  I'd  almost  stay  here.  You 

41 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


wouldn't  suppose  one  person  could  vent  so  much.  I 
believe  Felix  went  to  a  Jockey  Club,  there  were  balls 
and  farces ;  but  I  kept  in  bed."  Mrs.  Penny  asked, 
"And  London  —  how  are  you  amused  there  now?" 
The  other  retied  the  bow  of  a  garter.  "  Fireworks, 
Roman  candles  to  Mr.  Handel's  music,  and  Italian 
parties,  Villeggiatura.  Covent  Garden  with  paper 
lanterns  among  the  trees,  seductions  — " 

Gilbert  Penny  smote  his  hands  on  the  chair  arms. 
"  This  hectoring  of  our  commerce  will  have  to  rest 
somewhere ! "  he  declared ;  "  taking  the  duty  from 
pig  iron,  and  then  restricting  its  market  to  London, 
is  no  conspicuous  improvement.  It  is  those  enact- 
ments that  provide  our  currency  with  Spanish  pieces 
instead  of  English  pounds.  The  West  Indies  are  too 
convenient  to  be  overlooked."  Mr.  Winscombe  re- 
plied stiffly,  "  The  Government  is  prepared  to  meet 
infractions  of  its  law."  Mr.  Penny  muttered  a 
period  about  Germany  in  England,  with  a  more  dis- 
tant echo  of  Hanoverian  whores  and  deformed  fire- 
brands. His  guest  sat  with  a  harsh,  implacable 
countenance  framed  in  the  long  shadows  of  his 
elaborate  wig,  his  ornate  coat  tails  falling  stiffly  on 
either  side  of  his  chair. 

Howat,  bred  in  the  comparative  simplicity  of  the 
Province,  found  the  foppery  of  the  aging  man 
slightly  ridiculous ;  yet  he  was  aware  that  Mr.  Wins- 
combe's  essential  character  had  no  expression  in  his 
satin  and  powder ;  his  will  was  as  rugged  and  virile  as 
that  of  any  adventuring  frontiersman  clad  in  un- 
42 


THE  FURNACE 


tanned  hides.  He  was,  Howat  decided,  at  little  dis- 
advantage with  his  young  wife.  He  wondered  if  any 
deep  bond  bound  the  two.  Their  personal  feelings 
were  carefully  concealed,  and  in  this  they  resembled 
Isabel  Howat,  rather  than  Gilbert,  her  husband. 
The  latter  had  a  habit  of  expressing  publicly  his 
affectionate  domestic  relations.  And  Howat  Penny 
decided  that  he  vastly  preferred  the  others'  reserve. 

An  awkward  silence  had  developed  on  top  of  the 
brief  political  acerbities.  There  was  no  sound  but 
the  singing  of  the  wood  in  the  open  stove.  Myrtle 
had  an  absent,  speculative  gaze;  Caroline  was  biting 
her  lip;  Mrs.  Winscombe  yawned  in  the  face  of  the 
assembly.  Gilbert  Penny  suggested  cards,  but  there 
was  no  reply.  Howat  left  the  room  by  a  door  that 
opened  on  a  rock  threshold  set  in  the  lawn.  The 
night  was  immaculate,  still  and  cold,  with  stars 
brightening  in  the  advance  of  winter.  He  walked 
about  the  house.  The  counting  room  of  the  forge 
was  a  separate  stone  structure  back  of  the  kitchen; 
and  to  the  right,  and  farther  away,  was  a  second 
small  building.  The  ground  fell  rapidly  down  to 
the  Forge  on  the  water  power  below.  He  could 
barely  discern  the  towering  bulk  of  the  water  wheel 
and  roofs  of  the  sheds. 

He  felt  uneasy,  obscurely  and  emotionally  dis- 
turbed. Already  Fanny  Gilkan  seemed  far  away,  to 
have  dropped  out  of  his  life.  He  would  give  some 
gold  to  the  charcoal  burner  he  had  attempted  to 
shoot.  Mrs.  Winscombe  annoyed  him  by  her  atti- 

43 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


tude  toward  Myrtle  Forge,  her  unvarnished  air  of 
condescension.  How  old  was  she?  A  few  years 
more  than  himself,  he  decided.  The  Italian  hooked 
her  into  her  stays.  A  picture  of  this  formed  in  his 
thoughts  and  dissolved,  leaving  behind  a  faint  sting- 
ing of  his  nerves.  He  recalled  her  bare  —  naked  — 
arms  .  .  .  the  old  man,  her  husband. 

She  had  spoken  of  Italian  parties;  he  had  seen  a 
picture  on  a  fan  labelled  Villeggiatura  —  a  simper- 
ing exquisite  in  a  lascivious  embrace  with  a  frail 
beauty  on  the  bank  of  a  stream,  and  a  garland  of 
stripped  loves  reeling  about  a  slim,  diapered  Har- 
lequin. It  was  a  different  scene,  a  different  world, 
from  the  Province ;  and  its  intrusion  in  the  person  of 
Mrs.  Winscombe  was  like  an  orris-scented  air  moving 
across  the  face  of  great  trees  sweeping  their  virginal 
foliage  into  the  region  of  strong  and  pure  winds. 

He  was  dimly  conscious  of  the  awakening  in  him 
of  undivined  pressures,  the  stirring  of  attenuated  yet 
persisting  influences.  He  was  saturated  in  the  space, 
the  sheer,  immense  simplicity  of  the  wild,  hardly 
touched  by  the  narrow  strip  of  inhabited  coast.  He 
had  given  his  existence  to  the  woods,  to  hunting  cun- 
ning beasts,  the  stoical  endurance  of  blinding  fa- 
tigue; he  had  scorned  the,  to  him,  sophistications  of 
bricks  and  civilization.  But  now,  in  the  length  of 
an  evening,  something  invidious  and  far  different  had 
become  sentient  in  his  being.  Italian  parties,  and 
Covent  Garden  with  lanterns  among  the  trees  .  .  . 
44 


THE  FURNACE 


Trees  clipped  and  pruned,  and  gravel  walks;  seduc- 
tions. 

A  falling  meteor  flashed  a  brilliant  arc  across  the 
black  horizon,  dropping  into  what  illimitable  wilder- 
ness? Fireworks  set  to  the  shrill  scraping  of  violins. 
One  mingled  with  the  other  in  his  blood,  fretting  him, 
spoiling  the  serene  and  sure  vigour  of  youth,  bind- 
ing his  feet  to  the  obscure  past.  Yet  colouring  all 
was  the  other,  the  black  Welsh  blood  of  the 
Pennys.  Ever  since  his  boyhood  he  had  heard  the 
fact  of  his  peculiar  inheritance  explained,  accepted. 
In  the  past  he  had  been  what  he  was  without  thought, 
self-appraisal.  But  now  he  recognized  an  essential 
difference  from  his  family;  it  came  over  him  in  a 
feeling  of  loneliness,  of  removal  from  the  facile  busi- 
ness of  living  in  general. 

For  the  first  time  he  wondered  about  his  future. 
It  was  unguarded  by  the  placid  and  safe  engage- 
ments of  the  majority  of  lives.  He  would,  he  knew, 
untimately  possess  Myrtle  Forge,  a  part  of  Shad- 
rach,  and  a  considerable  fortune.  That  was  his 
obvious  inheritance.  But,  suddenly,  the  material 
thing,  the  actual,  grew  immaterial,  and  the  visionary 
assumed  a  dark  and  enigmatic  reality. 

Howat  abruptly  quitted  the  night  of  the  lawn,  his 
sombre  questioning,  for  the  house.  The  candles  had 
been  extinguished  in  the  drawing  room.  A  square, 
glass  lamp  hung  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs ;  and  there 
he  encountered  a  man  in  a  scratch  wig,  with  a  long 

45 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY 'S 


nose  flattened  at  the  end.  He  bowed  obsequiously 
—  a  posturing  figure  in  shirtsleeves  with  a  green 
cloth  waistcoat  and  black  legs.  The  Italian  servant, 
Howat  concluded.  He  passed  noiselessly,  leaving  a 
reek  of  pomatum  and  the  memory  of  a  servile  smile. 
Howat  Penny  experienced  a  strong  sense  of  distaste, 
almost  depression,  at  the  other's  silent  proximity. 
It  followed  him  to  his  room,  contaminated  his  sleep 
with  unintelligible  whispering,  oily  and  disturbing 
gestures,  and  fled  only  at  the  widening  glimmer  of 
dawn. 


46 


IV 

THE  sun  had  almost  reached  the  zenith  before 
Mrs.  Winscombe  appeared  from  her  room. 
And  at  the  same  moment  David  Forsythe 
arrived  on  a  spent  grey  mare.  He  had  come  over  the 
forty  rough  miles  which  separated  Myrtle  Forge  from 
the  city  in  less  than  five  hours.  He  was  a  year  older 
than  Howat,  but  he  appeared  actually  younger  — 
a  candid  youth  with  high  colour  and  light,  simply 
tied  hair.  He  had,  he  told  Howat,  important  mes- 
sages from  his  father  to  Mr.  Winscombe.  The  latter 
and  Gilbert  Penny  were  conversing  amicably  in  the 
lower  room  at  the  right  of  the  stairway  —  a  chamber 
with  a  bed  that,  nevertheless,  was  used  for  informal 
assemblage.  Mr.  Winscombe  wore  an  enveloping 
banian  of  russet  brocade  with  deep  furred  cuffs, 
and  a  turban  of  vermilion  silk  comfortably  replacing 
a  wigged  formality.  Under  that  brilliant  colour  his 
face  was  as  yellow  as  an  orange. 

The  written  messages  were  delivered,  and  David 
returned  to  the  lawn.  The  day  was  superb  —  a 
crystal  cold  through  which  the  sun's  rays  filtered 
with  a  faintly  perceptible  glow.  Caroline  was  stand- 
ing at  Howat's  side,  and  she  gave  his  hand  a  rapid 
pressure  as  David  Forsythe  approached.  "  Where's 

47 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


Myrtle?  "  the  latter  asked  apparently  negligently. 
Howat  replied,  "  Still  in  the  agony  of  fixing  her  hair 
—  for  dinner ;  she'll  be  at  it  again  before  supper." 
David  whistled  a  vague  tune.  Caroline  added, 
"  You've  got  fearfully  dressy  yourself,  since  Lon- 
don." He  replied  appropriately,  and  then  became 
more  serious.  "  I  wish,"  he  told  them,  "  that  we  be- 
longed to  the  church  of  England;  you  know  the 
Penns  have  gone  back.  It's  pretty  heavy  at  home 
after  —  after  some  other  things.  The  Quakers 
didn't  use  to  be  so  infernally  solemn.  You  should 
see  the  swells  about  the  Court;  the  greatest  fun. 
And  old  George  with  a  face  like  a  plum  — " 

"  Don't  you  find  anything  here  that  pleases  you  ?  " 
Caroline  demanded  with  asperity. 

"  Myrtle's  all  right,"  he  admitted ;  "  not  many  of 
them  are  as  pretty." 

"  I'll  tell  her  you've  come,"  Caroline  promptly 
volunteered ;  "  she  won't  keep  you  waiting.  There 
she  is!  No,  it's  Mrs.  Winscombe." 

She  was  swathed  in  a  ruffled  lilac  cloak  quilted 
with  a  dull  gold  embroidery;  satin  slippers  were 
buckled  into  high  pattens  of  black  polished  wood; 
and  her  head,  relatively  small  with  tight-drawn 
hair,  was  uncovered.  She  was  not  as  compelling 
under  the  sun  as  in  candle  light,  he  observed.  Her 
face,  unpainted,  was  pale,  an  expression  of  petu- 
lance discernible.  Yet  she  was  more  potent  than 
any  other  woman  he  had  encountered.  "  Isn't  that 
the  garden  ?  "  she  asked,  waving  beyond  the  end  of 
48 


THE  FURNACE 


the  house.  "  I  like  gardens."  She  moved  off  in 
the  direction  indicated ;  and  —  as  he  felt  she  ex- 
pected, demanded  —  he  followed  slightly  behind. 

A  short,  steep  terrace  descended  to  a  formally, 
planted  plot,  now  flowerless,  enclosed  by  low  privet 
hedges.  There  were  walks  of  rolled  bark,  and, 
against  a  lower,  denser  barrier,  a  long,  white  bench. 
The  ground  still  fell  away  beyond;  and  there  was  a 
sturdy  orchard,  cleared  of  underbrush,  with  crimson 
apples  among  the  grey  limbs.  Beyond,  across  a 
low,  tangled  wild,  an  amphitheatre  of  hills  rose 
against  the  sky,  drawn  from  the  extreme  right  about 
the  fa9ade  of  the  dwelling.  They  seemed  to  enclose 
Myrtle  Forge  in  a  natural  domain  of  its  own;  and, 
actually,  Gilbert  Penny  owned  most  of  the  acreage 
within  that  immediate  circle. 

Mrs.  Winscombe  sank  on  the  garden  bench,  where 
she  sat  with  a  hand  resting  on  either  side  of  her. 
Above  them  a  column  of  smoke  rose  from  the  kitchen 
against  the  blue.  A  second,  heavier  cloud  rolled  up 
from  the  Forge  below.  "  They  have  been  repairing 
the  forebay,"  Howat  explained ;  "  the  Forge  has  been 
closed.  I'm  supposed  to  be  in  the  counting  house." 

"  You  work?  "  she  demanded  surprised. 

"  At  the  ledger,  put  things  down  —  what  the  men 
are  paid,  mostly  in  tobacco  and  shoes,  ozenbrigs 
and  molasses  and  rum ;  or  garters  and  handkerchiefs 
for  the  women.  Then  I  enter  the  pig  hauled  from 
Shadrach,  and  the  carriage  of  the  blooms." 

"  I  don't  understand  any  of  that,"  she  announced. 

49 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


"  It  probably  wouldn't  interest  you ;  the  pig's  the 
iron  cast  at  the  furnace.  It's  worked  in  the  forges, 
and  hammered  into  blooms  and  anconies,  chunks  or 
stout  bars  of  wrought  iron.  We  do  better  than  two 
tons  a  week."  The  sound  of  a  short,  jarring  blow 
rose  from  the  Forge,  it  was  repeated,  became  a  con- 
tinuous part  of  the  serene  noon.  "  That's  the  ham- 
mer now,"  he  explained.  "  It  goes  usually  all  day 
and  most  nights.  We're  used  to  it,  don't  hear  it; 
but  strangers  complain." 

"  Mr.  Forsythe  said  your  father  was  an  Iron- 
master, one  of  the  biggest  in  the  Province,  and  I 
suppose  you'll  become  that  too."  She  gazed  about 
at  the  hills,  sheeted  in  scarlet  and  yellow,  at  the  wide 
sunny  hollow  that  held  Myrtle  Forge.  "  Here," 
she  added  in  a  totally  unexpected  accent  of  feeling, 
"  it  is  very  beautiful,  very  big.  I  thought  all  the 
world  was  like  St.  James  or  Versailles.  I've  never 
been  to  Poland,  my  mother's  family  came  from  there 
to  Paris,  but  I'm  told  they  have  forests  and  such 
things,  too.  This  is  different  from  Annapolis,  that 
is  only  an  echo  of  London,  but  here  — "  she  gazed 
far  beyond  him  into  the  profound  noon. 

He  recovered  slowly  from  the  surprise  of  her  un- 
locked for  speech,  attitude.  Howat  studied  her 
frankly,  leaning  forward  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees. 
Her  discontent  was  paramount.  It  was  deeper  than 
he  had  supposed ;  like  his  there  were  disturbing  quali- 
ties in  her  blood,  qualities  at  a  variance  with  the 
50 


THE  FURNACE 


obvious  part  of  her  being.  A  sense  of  profound  in- 
timacy with  her  pervaded  him. 

"  This,"  she  continued,  "  is  like  a  cure  at  a  Bath, 
a  great  bath  of  air  and  light.  I  should  like  to  stay, 
I  think  .  .  .  Are  you  content?" 

"  It  always  seemed  crowded  to  me,"  he  admitted. 
"  Usually  I  get  as  far  away  as  possible,  into  the 
woods,  the  real  wilderness.  But  you  heard  my 
father  last  night  —  I'm  a  black  Penny,  a  solitary, 
dark  lot.  You  couldn't  judge  from  what  I  might 
feel." 

"  Your  father  and  you  are  not  sympathetic,"  she 
judged  acutely.  "  He  is  practical,  solid ;  but  it  isn't 
easy  to  say,  even  with  an  explanation,  what  you  are. 
In  London  —  but  I'm  sick  of  London.  Myrtle 
Forge.  It's  appalling  at  night.  I'd  like  to  go  into 
the  real  wilderness,  leave  off  my  hoops  and  stays, 
and  bathe  in  a  stream ;  a  water  nymph  and  you  .  .  . 
but  that's  only  Watteau  again,  with  a  cicisbeo  hold- 
ing my  shift  and  stockings.  In  London  you'd  be 
that,  a  lady's  servant  of  love;  but,  in  the  Province, 
I  wonder?  " 

He  sat  half  comprehending  her  words  mingling  in 
his  brain  with  the  pounding  of  the  trip  hammer  at  the 
Forge,  one  familiar  and  one  unfamiliar  yet  not 
strange  sound.  Above  them,  on  the  lawn,  he  could 
see  Myrtle  —  through  the  middle  of  the  day  the 
sun  had  increased  its  warmth  —  with  skirts  like  the 
petals  of  a  fabulous  tea  rose.  The  sun  glinted  on 

51 


THE  THREE  SLACK  PENNYS 


the  living  gold  of  her  hair  and  bathed  an  arm 
white  as  snow.  David  was  there  no  doubt.  His 
thoughts  dwelt  for  a  moment  on  Caroline,  then  re- 
turned to  Mrs.  Winscombe,  to  himself.  His  entire 
attitude  toward  her,  his  observations,  had  been  upset, 
disarmed,  by  her  unexpected  air  of  soft  melancholy. 
In  her  lavender  wrap  she  resembled  a  drooping 
branch  of  flowering  lilac.  She  seemed  very  young; 
her  air  of  sophistication,  her  sensuality  of  being,  had 
vanished.  Traces  of  her  illness  on  shipboard  still 
lingered  darkly  under  her  eyes.  Asleep,  he  suddenly 
thought,  her  face  would  be  very  innocent,  purified. 
This  came  to  him  involuntarily ;  there  was  none  of 
the  stinging  of  the  senses  she  had  evoked  in  him  the 
night  before.  His  instinct  for  preservation  from 
any  entanglements  with  life  lay  dormant  before  her 
surrender  to  influences  that  left  her  crumpled,  with- 
out the  slightest  interest  in  any  exterior  fact. 

A  sententious  black  servant  in  maroon  livery  and 
a  bright  worsted  waistcoat  announced  dinner  from 
the  foot  of  the  terrace,  and  they  moved  slowly  to- 
ward the  house.  There  was  a  concerted  interest  in 
the  faces  they  found  already  about  the  table.  Howat 
took  his  seat  at  his  mother's  side,  Gilbert  Penny  as- 
sisted Mrs.  Winscombe.  David  was  placed  between 
Caroline  and  Myrtle.  Mr.  Winscombe,  again  form- 
ally wigged  and  coated,  was  absorbed  in  thought. 
He  said  to  his  hostess,  "  It's  the  uncertainty  that 
puts  me  in  doubt.  Ogle  thought  the  thing  thoroughly 
reviewed,  when  now  Hamilton  comes  out  with  his 
52 


THE  FURNACE 


damned  Indians  and  Maryland  rum.  Forsythe  sug- 
gests my  presence  in  Council  to-morrow,  and  it's 
barely  possible  that  there  will  be  a  return  to  An- 
napolis. While  Ludowika  — " 

"  I  can't  travel  another  ell  over  the  atrocities 
they  call  roads  here,"  Mrs.  Winscombe  declared.  "  I 
expect  to  die  returning  to  England  as  it  is,  and  I 
won't  put  up  with  any  more  preliminary  torment. 
You'll  have  to  leave  me." 

"  At  Myrtle  Forge,"  Gilbert  Penny  added  at  once ; 
"  at  Myrtle  Forge  as  long  as  you  like.  Unless," 
he  added  with  a  smile,  "  you  prefer  the  gaiety  at 
Abner  Forsythe's."  A  hot  colour  suffused  David's 
cheeks. 

Mr.  Winscombe  bowed  over  the  table,  "  I  am  in- 
clined to  take  advantage  of  that.  Ludowika  would 
be  the  better  without  even  Quaker  gaiety  for  a  lit- 
tle." He  stopped,  turned  toward  her.  "  I'd  like  it 
immensely,"  she  replied  simply.  "  I  am  sure  it  would 
give  me  back  all  that  I've  lost  in  passage.  Per- 
haps," she  leaned  forward,  smiling  at  Howat,  "  I 
could  see  something  of  what's  behind  those  hills,  go 
into  the  real  Arcadia." 

"  Out  there,"  said  Mr.  Penny,  "  are  the  Endless 
Mountains." 

The  faint,  involuntary  chill  again  invaded  Howat ; 
suddenly  an  unfamiliar  imagery  attached  to  the  com- 
monplace phrase  uttered  by  his  father  —  the  End- 
less Mountains !  It  brought  back  his  doubt,  his 
questioning,  of  life.  It  was  the  inconceivable  term 

68 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

endless,  without  any  finality  of  ultimate  rest,  without 
even  the  arbitrary  peace  of  death,  that  appalled  him. 
He  thought  of  life  going  on  and  on,  with  nothing 
consummated,  nothing  achieved  nor  final.  He 
thought  of  the  black  Penny  who  had  been  burned 
as  a  heretic  to  ashes  years  before;  yet  Howat  was 
conscious  of  the  martyr's  bitter  stubbornness  of  soul, 
alive,  still  alive  and  unquenched,  in  himself.  He 
wondered  about  the  heritage  to  come.  There  was 
a  further  belief  that  it  followed  exclusively  the  male 
line.  The  Pennys,  like  many  another  comparatively 
obscure  name,  went  far  back  into  the  primeval  soil  of 
civilization.  If  he  had  no  issue  the  endlessness  might 
be  confounded;  a  fatality  in  his  long,  dangerous  ex- 
cursions would  have  vanquished  the  ineradicable 
Welsh  blood.  He  might  have  no  children ;  yesterday 
he  would  have  made  such  a  decision ;  but  now  he  was 
less  sure  of  himself,  of  his  power  to  will.  He  was 
dimly  conscious  of  vast  exterior  forces  and  traitor- 
ous factors  within.  It  was  as  if  momentarily  he  had 
been  lifted  to  a  cloud  beyond  time,  from  which  he  saw 
the  entire,  stumbling  progress  of  humanity,  its  be- 
ginning hid  in  humid  mist,  moving  into  a  nocturnal 
shadow  like  a  thunder  bank. 

He  sat  with  chin  on  breast  and  sombre  eyes  until 
his  mother  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "  Howat," 
she  protested,  "  you  are  too  glum  for  the  comfort  of 
any  one  near  you.  I  think  you  must  make  a  pose 
of  being  black.  I'd  almost  called  one  of  the  serv- 
ants to  fiddle  in  your  ear." 
54 


THE  FURNACE 


Howat  smiled  at  her;  he  returned  slowly  to  the 
actual,  the  particular.  Mr.  Winscombe  had  pushed 
back  his  chair,  excusing  himself  in  the  pressure  of 
necessary  preparations.  His  wife  disappeared  with 
him,  leaving  behind  the  echo  of  a  discussion  about 
Cecco,  the  Italian  servant.  The  women  followed, 
with  David  at  Myrtle's  shoulder,  leaving  Howat  and 
Gilbert  Penny. 

The  latter  was  still  a  handsome  man,  with  his 
own  hair  silvered  on  a  ruddy  countenance,  and 
a  careful  taste  in  clothes.  His  nose  was  predomi- 
nant, with  a  wide-cleft  mouth  above  a  square  chin. 
"  I  had  thought,"  he  said  deliberately,  "  that  you 
were  employed  in  the  counting  house,  but  Schwar 
tells  me  that  it  has  been  a  week  since  you  were  seen 
there."  He  raised  a  broad  hand  to  silence  Howat's 
reply.  "  While  I  can  afford  to  keep  you  merely  at 
hunting,  the  result  to  the  table  is  so  meagre  that  I'm 
not  justified.  There  is  no  St.  James  here,  in  Penn- 
sylvania, no  gentlemen  supported  by  the  Crown  for 
the  purpose  of  amusement.  You  will  have  to  sail  for 
England  if  you  expect  that  sort  of  thing."  He  rose, 
"  You  owe  an  intelligent  interest  in  Myrtle  Forge,  to 
your  sisters  and  mother,  toward  all  that  I  have  ac- 
complished. It's  a  rich  property,  and  it's  growing 
bigger.  Already  young  Forsythe  has  a  list  of  im- 
provements to  be  instituted  at  the  Furnace  —  clerks 
and  a  manager  and  new  system  for  carrying  on  the 
blast." 

"  I'm  not  an  iron  man,"  Howat  Penny  told  him, 

55 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


"  I'm  not  a  clerk.  David  can  take  all  that  over  for 
you,  particularly  if  he  marries  one  of  the  girls." 

"  What  are  you?  "  the  elder  demanded  sharply. 

**  You  ought  to  know.  You  explained  it  fully 
enough  to  the  Winscombes." 

"  If  it  wasn't  for  that  you'd  have  been  dumping 
slag  five  years  ago.  What  I  hoped  was  that  with 
maturity  some  sense  of  obligation  would  be  born  into 
you.  What  is  this  pretended  affection  for  your 
mother  worth  if  you  are  unwilling  to  conserve,  make 
safe,  her  future,  in  case  I  die?  "  All  that  his  father 
said  was  logical,  just;  but  it  only  brought  him  a 
renewed  sense  of  his  impotence  before  very  old  and 
implacable  inner  forces. 

"  I'll  try  again,"  he  briefly  agreed.  "  But  I  warn 
you,  it  will  do  little  good.  There  is  no  pretence  in 
the  affection  you  spoke  of,  but  —  but  something 
stronger  — "  he  gave  up  as  hopeless  the  effort  to 
explain  all  that  had  swept  through  his  mind. 

Gilbert  Penny  abruptly  left  the  room. 

It  transpired  that  the  Italian  servant  was  to  be 
left  at  Myrtle  Forge ;  he  was  now  assisting  the  serv- 
ants in  strapping  a  box  behind  the  chaise  that  was 
to  carry  Mr.  Winscombe  and  David  to  the  city. 
Howat  pictured  the  long,  supple  hands  of  the  Italian 
hooking  Mrs.  Winscombe  into  her  clothes,  and  a  sud- 
den, hot  revulsion  clouded  his  brain.  When  the  car- 
riage had  gone,  and  he  stood  in  the  contracted  space 
of  the  counting  room,  before  a  long,  narrow  forge 
book  open  on  a  high  desk,  he  was  still  conscious  of 
56 


THE  FURNACE 


a  strong  repulsion.  It  was  idiotic  to  let  such  an  in- 
significant fact  as  the  Winscombes'  man  persistently 
annoy  him.  But,  in  a  manner  entirely  unaccount- 
able, this  Cecco  had  become  a  symbol  of  much  that 
was  dark,  potentially  threatening,  in  his  conjectures. 

The  hammer  fell  with  a  full  reiteration  through  the 
afternoon;  the  sun,  at  a  small  window,  shifted  a 
dusty  bar  across  inkpots  and  quills  and  desk  to  a 
higher  corner.  He  could  hear  the  dull  turning  of 
the  wheel  and  the  thin,  irregular  splash  of  falling 
water.  Other  sounds  rose  at  intervals  —  the  tramp- 
ing of  mules  dragging  pig  iron  from  Shadrach,  the 
rumble  of  its  deposit  by  the  Forge.  Emanuel  Schwar 
entered  with  a  piece  of  paper  in  his  hand.  "  Eleven 
hundred  weight  of  number  two,"  he  read ;  "  at  six 
pounds,  and  a  load  of  charcoal.  Jonas  Rupp 
charged  with  three  pairs  of  woollen  stockings,  and 
shoes  for  Minnie,  four  shillings  more." 

Howat  mechanically  entered  the  enumerated  items, 
his  distaste  for  such  a  petty  occupation  mounting 
until  it  resembled  a  concrete  power  forcing  him  out- 
side into  the  mellow  end  of  the  day.  A  figure  dark- 
ened the  doorway ;  it  was  Caroline.  "  I  hardly  saw 
him,"  she  declared  hotly.  "  Myrtle  hung  like  a 
sickly  flower  in  his  buttonhole."  Her  hoops  flat- 
tened as  she  made  her  way  through  the  narrow  en- 
trance. "  There's  one  thing  about  Myrtle,"  she 
continued,  "  she's  frightfully  proper  in  her  narrow 
little  ideas.  Myrtle's  a  prude.  And  I  promise  you 
I  won't  be  if  I  get  a  chance  at  David."  She  stood 

57 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


with  vivid,  parted  lips,  bright  eyes;  almost,  Howat 
thought,  charming.  Such  a  spirit  in  Caroline 
amazed  him ;  he  hadn't  conceived  of  its  presence.  He 
recognized  a  phase  of  his  own  contempt  for  custom- 
ary paths,  accepted  limitations  and  proprieties. 
"  Remember  David's  Quaker  training,"  he  told  her 
in  his  habitual  air  of  jest.  "  David's  been  to  Lon- 
don," she  replied.  "  I  saw  him  pinch  the  Appletofft 
girl  at  the  farm." 

Again  in  his  room,  he  changed  into  more  formal 
clothes  than  on  the  evening  previous ;  he  did  this  with- 
out a  definite,  conscious  purpose;  it  was  as  if  his  at- 
titude of  mind  required  a  greater  suavity  of  exterior. 
He  wore  a  London  waistcoat,  a  gift  from  his  mother, 
of  magenta  worked  with  black  petals  and  black  stone 
buttons ;  his  breeches  were  without  a  wrinkle,  and  the 
tails  of  his  coat,  even  if  they  were  not  wired  like 
those  David  was  said  to  have  brought  from  Eng- 
land, had  a  not  unsatisfactory  swing. 

At  supper  Mrs.  Winscombe  sat  at  his  left,  Caro- 
line and  Myrtle  had  taken  their  customary  places  op- 
posite, the  elders  had  not  been  disturbed.  Mrs. 
Winscombe  had  resumed  the  animation  vanished  at 
noon.  She  wore  green  and  white,  with  plum-col- 
oured ribbons,  and  a  flat  shirred  cap  tied  under 
her  chin.  The  fluted,  clear  lawn  of  her  elbow  sleeves 
was  like  a  scented  mist.  He  was  again  conscious  of 
the  warm  seduction,  the  rare  finish,  of  her  body,  like 
a  flushed  marble  under  wide  hoops  and  dyed  silk. 
She  was  talking  to  Myrtle  about  the  Court.  "  I  am 
58 


THE  FURNACE 


in  waiting  with  the  Princess  Amelia  Sophia,"  she  ex- 
plained ;  "  I  have  her  stockings.  There  is  a  fright- 
ful racket  of  music  and  parrots  and  German,  with 
old  Handel  bellowing  and  the  King  eternally  clink- 
ing one  piece  of  gold  on  another." 

Gilbert  Penny  listened  with  a  tightening  of  his 
well  shaped  lips.  "  It's  into  that  chamber  pot  we 
pour  our  sweat  and  iron,"  he  asserted.  Ludowika 
Winscombe  studied  him.  "  In  England,"  she  said, 
"  the  American  provinces  are  supposed  to  lie  hardly 
beyond  the  Channel,  but  here  England  seems  to  be 
at  the  other  end  of  the  world."  Myrtle  added,  "  I'd 
like  it  immensely." 

And  Howat  thought  of  Ludowika  —  he  thought 
of  her  tentatively  as  Ludowika  —  in  the  brilliant 
setting  of  tropical  silks  and  birds. 

He  considered  the  change  that  had  overtaken  his 
father,  English  born,  in  the  quarter  century  he  had 
lived  in  America;  the  strong  allegiance  formed  to 
ideas  fundamentally  different  from  those  held  at 
St.  James ;  and  he  wondered  if  such  a  transformation 
would  operate  in  Ludowika  if  she  could  remain  in  the 
Province.  It  was  a  fantastic  query,  and  he  im- 
patiently dismissed  it,  returning  to  the  contemplation 
of  his  mother's  problematic  happiness.  He  deter- 
mined to  question  the  latter  if  a  permissible  occasion 
arose;  suddenly  his  interest  had  sharpened  toward 
her  mental  situation.  He  compared  the  two  women, 
what  he  could  conjecture  about  Isabel  Howat  and 
Ludowika  Winscombe;  but  something  within  him, 

59 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


automatic  and  certain,  whispered  that  no  comparison 
was  possible.  His  mother  possessed  a  quality  of 
spirit  that  he  had  never  found  elsewhere;  he  could 
see,  in  spite  of  their  resemblance  of  blood  and  posi- 
tion, that  the  elder  could  never  have  been  merely 
provocative.  Such  distinctions,  he  divined,  were  the 
result  of  qualities  mysterious  and  deeply  concealed. 
Love,  that  he  had  once  dismissed  as  the  principle  of 
blind  procreation,  became  more  complex,  enigmatic. 
He  had  no  increased  desire  to  experience  it,  with  the 
inevitable  loss  of  personal  liberty ;  but  he  began  to 
be  conscious  of  new  depths,  unexpected  complica- 
tions, in  human  relationship. 

He  was  not  so  sure  of  himself. 

They  had  moved  to  the  less  formal  of  the  rooms 
used  as  places  of  gathering.  The  bed  in  a  corner  was 
hung  in  blue  shalloon  over  ruffled  white  muslin,  and 
there  was  blue  at  the  windows.  Against  the  wall  a 
clavichord,  set  aside  as  obsolete,  raised  its  dusky  red 
ebony  box  on  grooved  legs.  Myrtle  was  seated  at 
it  picking  out  an  air  from  Belshazzar.  She  held  each 
note  in  a  silvery  vibration  that  had  the  fragility  of 
old  age.  Ludowika  was  by  the  fire,  quartered  across 
a  corner;  there  was  no  stove,  and  the  wood  burning 
in  the  opening  sent  out  frequent,  pungent  waves  of 
smoke.  She  coughed  and  cursed.  "  Positively," 
she  declared,  "  I'll  turn  salt  like  a  smoked  herring." 

She  rose,  her  gaze  resting  on  Howat.  "  I  must  go 
out,"  she  continued ;  "  breathe."  He  was  strangely 
reluctant  to  accompany  her,  his  feet  were  leaden. 
60 


THE  FURNACE 


Nevertheless,  in  a  few  moments  he  found  himself  at 
her  side  on  the  lawn.  Her  sophistication  had  again 
disappeared,  beneath  the  stars  drawn  across  the  hills, 
over  Myrtle  Forge.  There  was  a  pause  in  the  ham- 
mering below.  *'  Take  me  down  there,"  she  com- 
manded. 

He  led  the  way  on  a  beaten  path  that  dropped 
sharply  to  a  bridge  of  hewn  logs  crossing  the  spent 
water.  The  Forge,  a  long  shed  following  the  stream, 
was  open  on  the  opposite  side;  an  enclosure  of 
ruddy,  vaporous  gloom  with  pools  of  molten  colour, 
clangorous  sounds.  The  bubbling,  white  cores  of 
three  raised  and  hooded  hearths  were  incessantly  agi- 
tated with  long  rods  by  blackened  and  glistening 
shapes.  At  intervals  a  flushing  rod  was  withdrawn 
from  a  fire  and  plunged  in  a  trough  of  water;  a 
cloud  of  ghostly  steam  arose,  a  forgeman's  visage 
momentarily  illuminated  like  a  copper  mask.  A 
grimy  lantern  was  hung  above  the  anvil,  its  thin 
light  falling  on  the  ponderous  head  of  the  trip  ham- 
mer suspended  at  right  angles  from  a  turning 
cogged  shaft  projection  through  the  wall. 

The  hearths,  set  in  a  row  beyond  the  anvil,  had  at 
their  back  an  obscure,  mechanical  stir,  accompanied 
by  the  audible  suction  of  squat,  drum  bellows.  The 
labour  was  halted  at  a  fire;  half  naked  anatomies, 
herculean  shoulders  and  incredible  arms,  gathered 
about  its  mouth  with  hooked  bars.  An  incandes- 
cent mass  was  lifted,  born,  rayed  in  an  intolerable 
white  heat,  into  the  air.  A  hammer  was  swung  upon 

61 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


it;  and,  as  if  the  metal  were  sentient,  a  violet  radi- 
ance scintillated  where  the  blow  had  fallen.  The 
pasty  iron  was  carried  to  the  anvil,  the  hooks 
dropped  for  wide-jawed  tongs;  the  trip  hammer 
moved  up  and  fell.  The  hardening  metal  darkened 
to  a  carnation  from  which  chips  scattered  like  gor- 
geous petals.  The  carnation  faded  under  ringing 
blows ;  the  petals,  heaping  in  the  penumbra  under 
foot,  were  as  vividly  blue  as  gentians.  The  colour 
vanished  from  the  solidifying  bloom  ...  It  was 
ashen,  black.  The  hammering  continued. 

A  sense  of  the  vast  and  antique  simplicity  of  the 
forging,  a  feeling  of  hammering  the  earth  itself  into 
the  superior  purposes  of  man,  enveloped  Howat. 
He  forgot  for  the  moment  his  companion,  lost  in  a 
swelling  pride  of  Myrtle  Forge,  of  his  father's  fibre 
—  the  iron  of  his  character  like  the  iron  he  suc- 
cessfully wrought.  He  could  grasp  Gilbert  Penny's 
accomplishment  here,  take  fire  at  its  heroic  quality ; 
a  thing  he  found  impossible  in  the  counting  room 
above,  recording  such  trivial  details  as  wool  stock- 
ings for  Jonas  Rupp.  He  could  be  a  forgeman,  he 
thought,  but  never  a  clerk ;  and  in  that  limitation  he 
realized  that  he  was  inferior  to  his  father.  There 
were  aspects  of  himself  beyond  such  discipline  and 
control. 

Ludowika  Winscombe  grasped  his  arm.     "  Come 

away,"  she  begged ;  "  it's  —  it's  savage,  like  Vulcan 

and    dreadful,    early    legends."     She    hurried    him, 

clinging  to  his  arm,  over  the  ascent  to  the  orderly 

62 


THE  FURNACE 


lawn,  the  tranquil  shine  of  candle-lit  windows. 
There,  with  her  hood  fallen  from  her  head,  she  sat 
on  a  stone  step. 

"  You  frighten  me,  a  little,"  she  confessed.  "  Are 
you  at  all  like  —  like  that  below  inside  of  you?  I 
have  a  feeling  that  you  might  be.  If  you  were  one 
of  the  men  about  Vauxhall  you'd  be  kissing  me  now 
...  if  I  liked  you.  But,  although  I  do  like  you,  I 
wouldn't  kiss  you  for  an  emerald  buckle."  He  recog- 
nized that  she  spoke  seriously ;  her  voice  bore  no  con- 
nective suggestion.  Kisses,  it  appeared,  were  no 
more  to  her  than  little  flowers  which  she  dealt  out 
casually  where  she  pleased.  Yet  the  idea,  with  its 
intimate  sensual  implications,  stayed  in  his  thoughts. 
He  considered  kissing  her,  holding  her  mouth  against 
his ;  and  he  was  conscious  of  a  sharp  return  of  his 
stinging  sense  of  her  bodily  seductiveness. 

At  the  same  time  an  obscure  uneasiness,  rebellion, 
possessed  him ;  it  was  the  old,  familiar  feeling  of  re- 
volt, of  distaste  for  imprisoning  circumstance.  It 
came  to  him  acutely,  almost  as  if  a  voice  had  whis- 
pered in  his  ear,  warning  him,  urging  him  into  the 
wild,  to  escape  threatening  catastrophe.  He  de- 
termined to  leave  Myrtle  Forge  in  the  morning,  to 
return  to  the  stream  he  had  followed  into  the  serene 
heart  of  the  woods.  There  he  would  stay  until  — 
until  Ludowika  Winscombe  had  gone.  Howat  had 
no  especial  sense  of  danger  from  her;  only  for  the 
moment  she  typified  the  entire  world  of  trivial  arti- 
fice. He  gazed  at  her  with  a  conscious  detachment 

63 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


possible  because  of  the  rarity  in  his  existence  of  such 
figures  as  hers. 

She  had  risen,  and  her  cloak  fallen  upon  the  grass. 
Howat  could  see  her  face  beneath  hair  faintly  pow- 
dered with  silver  dust  and  the  ruffled  patch  of  white 
tied  pertly  under  her  chin.  Her  smoothly  turning 
shoulders,  filmed  in  lawn,  and  low  bodice  crowned  an 
extravagant  circumference  of  ruffled  silk  and 
rosettes.  Against  the  night  of  the  Province,  the  in- 
visible but  felt  presence  of  immutable  hills,  she  was 
like  a  puppet,  a  grotesque  figure  of  comedy.  He  re- 
garded her  sombrely  from  the  step,  his  chin  cupped 
in  a  hand. 

But,  again,  she  surprised  him,  speaking  entirely 
out  of  the  character  he  had  assigned  her,  in  a  spirit 
that  seemed  utterly  incongruous,  but  which  was  yet 
warm  with  conviction.  "  I  want  to  explain  a  great 
deal  to  you,"  she  said,  "  that  really  isn't  explain- 
able. It  isn't  sensible,  and  yet  it  is  the  strongest 
feeling  I  remember.  It's  about  here  and  you  and 
me.  You  can't  picture  my  life,  and  so  you  don't 
know  how  strange  this  is,  how  different  from  all  I've 
ever  lived. 

"  I  think  I  told  you  I  was  born  in  Paris  —  you  see 
some  of  us  came  to  France  when  Louis  took  a  Polish 
princess,  and  there  my  mother  married  an  English 
gentleman.  Well,  it  was  always  the  Court,  in 
France  and  in  England.  Always  the  Court  —  do 
you  know  what  that  means?  It's  a  place  where 
women  are  pretty  pink  and  white  candies  that  men 
64 


THE  FURNACE 


are  always  picking  over.  It's  a  great  bed  with  a 
rose  silk  counterpane  and  closed  draperies.  Cham- 
pagne and  music  and  scent  and  masques.  Little 
plays  with  the  intrigue  in  the  audience;  favours  be- 
hind green  hedges.  I  was  in  it  when  I  was  fourteen, 
and  I  had  a  lover  the  first  year.  He  showed  me  how 
to  make  pleasure.  Don't  think  that  I  was  indif- 
ferent to  this,"  she  added  directly ;  "  that  I  wanted 
to  escape  it.  I  wasn't;  I  didn't.  Only  beneath 
everything  I  had  a  feeling  of  not  being  completely 
satisfied  ;  I  wanted  —  oh,  not  very  strongly  —  some- 
thing else,  for  an  hour.  At  times  the  air  seemed 
choking;  and  inside  of  me,  but  not  in  my  body,  I 
seemed  choking  too.  I  used  to  think  about  the 
Polish  forests,  and  that  would  help  a  little." 

She  resumed  the  place  at  his  side,  with  her  silk 
billowing  against  his  knee.  "  This  is  it,"  she  de- 
clared, her  face  set  against  the  illimitable,  still  dark. 
"  I  recongized  it  only  a  little  while  ago.  I  think 
unconsciously  I  came  to  America  hoping  to  find  it; 
there  was  nothing  at  Annapolis,  but  here — "  she 
drew  a  breath  as  deep,  he  noted,  as  her  stays  would 
permit.  "  It  includes  you,  somehow,"  she  con- 
tinued ;  "  as  if  you  were  the  voice.  What  I  said 
coming  away  from  the  Forge,  about  dreading  you, 
was  only  momentary.  I  have  another  feeling,  pre- 
monition — "  she  broke  off,  her  manner  changed. 
"  All  the  Court  believes  in  signs :  Protestantism  and 
vampires. 

"  It  seems  unreal  here ;  I  mean  St.  James  and  all 

65 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


that  was  so  tremendously  important;  incredibly 
stupid  —  the  Princess  Amelia's  stockings.  But  you 
can't  imagine  the  jealousy.  Every  bit  of  it  shall  go 
out  of  my  thoughts.  You'll  help  me,  a  harmless 
magic.  I'll  be  as  simple  as  that  girl  across  the  road, 
with  the  red  cheeks,  in  a  single  slip.  You  must  call 
me  Ludowika;  Ludowika  and  Howat.  I'm  not  so 
terribly  old,  only  twenty-nine." 

"  I  am  going  away  to-morrow,"  he  informed  her ; 
"  I  won't  be  back  before  you  leave." 

A  slight  frown  gathered  about  her  eyes.  Her 
face  was  very  close  to  his.  "  But  I  don't  like  that 
either,"  she  replied.  "  You  were  to  be  a  part  of 
it,  its  voice;  excursions  in  the  woods.  Is  it  neces- 
sary, your  absence?" 

He  knew  that  it  was  not;  and  suddenly  he  was 
seized  with  the  conviction  that  he  would  not  go.  It 
was  as  if,  again,  a  voice  outside  him  had  informed 
him  of  the  fact.  But  if  there  were  no  reason  for  his 
going  there  was  as  little  for  his  remaining  at  Myrtle 
Forge;  that  was,  so  far  as  Ludowika  Winscombe 
was  concerned.  He  had  been  untouched  by  all  that 
she  had  said;  untouched  except  for  a  faint  involun- 
tary shiver  as  she  had  spoken  of  premonition.  And 
that  had  vanished  instantaneously.  There  was  his 
duty  in  the  counting  house.  But  he  was  forced  to 
admit  to  himself  the  insufficiency  of  that  reason;  it 
was  too  palpably  false. 

He  had  not  been  moved  by  the  intent  of  what  she 
had  said,  but  his  imagination  had  been  stirred,  as  if 
66 


THE  FURNACE 


by  the  touch  of  delicate,  pointed  fingers,  at  her  de- 
scription of  Court  —  a  bed  with  a  silk  counterpane 
.  .  .  behind  clipped  greenery.  He  recalled  the  fan 
with  its  painted  Villeggiatura,  the  naked,  wanton 
loves.  "  Something  different,"  she  half  repeated, 
with  a  sigh,  an  accent,  of  longing.  Howat  heard 
her  with  impatience ;  it  was  absurb  to  try  to  picture 
her  tramping  in  the  wilderness,  breaking  her  way 
hour  after  hour  through  thorned  underbrush,  like 
Fanny  Gilkan.  She  wouldn't  progress  a  hundred 
yards  in  her  unsteady  pattens  and  fragile  clothes. 

Suddenly  the  Italian  servant  appeared  absolutely 
noiselessly  at  her  side,  speaking  a  ridiculous,  oily 
gibberish.  "  At  once,"  she  replied.  She  turned  to 
Howat.  "  My  bed  has  been  prepared.  Are  you 
going  to-morrow?" 

"  No,"  he  answered  awkwardly.  She  turned  and 
left  without  further  words.  The  servant  walked  be- 
hind her,  resembling  an  unnatural  shadow. 

The  metallic  clamour  at  the  anvil  rose  and  fell, 
diminished  by  the  interposed  bulk  of  the  dwellings, 
ceaselessly  forging  the  Penny  iron,  the  Penny  gold. 
He  thought  of  himself  as  metal  under  the  hammer; 
or  rather  ore  at  the  furnace:  he  hadn't  run  clear  in 
the  casting;  there  were  bubbles,  bubbles  and  slag. 
Endless  refinements  —  first  the  furnace  and  then  the 
forge  and  then  the  metal.  A  contempt  for  the  lesser 
degrees  possessed  him,  for  a  flawed  or  clumsy  forg- 
ing, for  weakness  of  the  flesh,  the  fatality  of  easy 
surrender.  An  overwhelming,  passionate  emotion 

67 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


swept  him  to  his  feet,  clenched  his  hands,  filled  him 
with  a  numbing  desire  to  reach  the  last  purification. 
The  mood  sank  into  an  inexplicable  nostalgia;  he 
dragged  the  back  of  a  hand  impatiently  across  his 
vision.  His  persistent  indifference,  the  inhibition 
that  held  him  in  a  contemptuous  isolation,  again 
possessed  him,  Howat,  a  black  Penny.  A  last  trace 
of  his  emotion,  caught  in  the  flood  of  his  paramount 
disdain,  vanished  like  a  breath  of  warm  mist.  He 
entered  the  house  and  mounted  to  his  room;  the 
stairs  creaked  but  that  was  the  only  sound  audible 
within.  His  candles  burned  without  their  protecting 
glasses  in  smooth,  unwavering  flames.  When  they 
were  extinguished  the  darkness  flowed  in  and  blotted 
out  familiar  objects,  folded  him  in  a  cloak  of  invisi- 
bility, obliterated  him  in  sleep.  As  he  lost  con- 
sciousness he  heard  the  trip  hammer  dully  beating 
out  Penny  iron,  Penny  gold;  beating  out,  too,  the 
Penny  men  .  .  .  Slag  and  metal  and  ruffled  muslin, 
roman  candles  and  stars. 


68 


THERE  came  to  him  in  the  counting  house,  the 
following  afternoon,  rumours  and  echoes  of 
the  day's  happenings.  David  Forsythe  had 
arrived  after  dinner,  and  there  had  been  word  from 
Mr.  Winscombe;  he  would  be  obliged  to  return  to 
Maryland,  and  trusted  that  Ludowika  would  not  be 
an  onerous  charge.  David  was  to  take  Myrtle  and 
Caroline  back  with  him  to  the  city,  for  an  exemplary 
Quaker  party.  "  There's  no  good  asking  you,"  he 
told  Howat,  lounging  in  the  door  of  the  counting 
room.  David  was  flushed,  his  sleeve  coated  with 
dust.  "  Caroline,"  he  exclaimed,  "  is  as  strong  as  a 
forgeman;  she  upset  me  on  the  grass  as  quickly  as 
you  please,  hooked  her  knee  behind  me,  and  there  I 
was.  She  picked  me  up,  too,  and  laughed  at  me," 
he  stopped,  lost  in  thought.  "  Myrtle's  really  beau- 
tiful," he  said  again ;  "  Caroline's  not  a  thing  to 
look  at,  and  yet,  do  you  know,  a  —  a  man  looks  at 
her.  She  is  wonderfully  graceful." 

Howat  gave  Caroline  the  vigorous  stamp  of  his 
brotherly  approval.  "  She  understands  a  lot,  for  a 
girl,"  he  admitted.  "  Cn  course  Myrtle's  a  particu- 
lar peach,  but  I'd  never  go  to  her  if  a  buckle — " 
he  stopped  abruptly  as  Myrtle  appeared  at  David's 

69 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


side.  "Isn't  he  industrious?"  she  said  indiffer- 
ently. "  You'd  never  guess  how  father's  at  him. 
Have  you  heard,  Howat  —  Mrs.  Winscombe  will  be 
here  perhaps  a  month.  It's  a  wonder  you  haven't 
gone  away,  you  are  so  frightfully  annoyed  by  peo- 
ple. Last  night  you  were  with  her  over  an  hour  on 
the  lawn.  I  could  see  that  father  thought  it  queer; 
but  I  explained  to  him  that  court  women  never 
thought  of  little  things  like,  well,  husbands." 

Howat  gazed  at  her  coldly,  for  the  first  time  con- 
scious that  he  actually  disliked  Myrtle.  He  made 
up  his  mind,  definitely,  to  assist  Caroline  as  far  as 
possible.  She  was  absurd,  criticizing  Mrs.  Wins- 
combe.  "  Where,"  he  demanded,  "  did  you  get  all 
that  about  courts?  And  your  sudden,  tender  inter- 
est in  husbands?  That's  new,  too.  You're  not 
thinking  of  one  for  yourself,  are  you?  He'd  never 
see  you  down  in  the  morning." 

A  bright,  angry  colour  flooded  her  cheeks.  "  You 
are  as  coarse  as  possible,"  she  declared.  "  I'm  sure 
I  wish  you'd  stay  away  altogether  from  Myrtle 
Forge;  you've  never  been  anything  but  a  bother." 
She  left  abruptly.  "  Sweet  disposition."  Howat 
grinned.  "  You  are  seeing  family  life  as  it's  actually 
lived."  Later  his  thoughts  returned  to  what  she 
had  said  about  Ludowika  Winscombe;  he  recalled 
the  latter's  speech,  seated  on  the  doorstep ;  some 
stuff  about  a  premonition.  Myrtle  had  suggested 
that  he  was  interested  in  her.  What  ridiculous  non- 
sense! If  his  father  said  anything  on  that  score 
70 


THE  FURNACE 


the  other  would  discover  that  he  was  no  longer  a 
boy.  Besides,  such  insinuations  were  a  breach  of 
hospitality.  How  Mrs.  Winscombe  would  laugh  at 
them  if  she  suspected  Myrtle's  cheap  folly. 

She  had  asked  him  to  call  her  Ludowika.  He  de- 
cided that  he  would ;  really  he  couldn't  get  out  of  it 
now.  It  would  do  no  harm.  Ludowika!  It  was  a 
nice  name;  undoubtedly  Polish.  He  thought  again 
about  what  she  had  said  of  Polish  forests,  the  dis- 
satisfaction that  had  followed  her  for  so  many 
years.  A  lover  at  fourteen.  A  surprising  sentence 
formed  of  itself  in  his  brain. —  She  had  never  had 
a  chance.  That  pasty  court  life  had  spoiled  her. 
It  had  no  significance  for  himself;  he  was  simply 
revolving  a  slightly  melancholy  fact. 

Felix  Winscombe  was  a  sere  figure,  yet  he  was 
extraordinarily  full  of  a  polished  virility,  rapier- 
like.  Howat  could  see  the  dark,  satirical  face  shad- 
owed by  the  elaborate  wig,  the  rigid  figure  in  pre- 
cise, foppish  dress.  He  heard  Winscombe's  slightly 
harsh,  dominant  voice.  His  position  in  England 
was,  he  knew,  secure,  high.  Ludowika  had  been 
very  sensible  in  marrying  him.  That  was  the  way, 
Howat  Penny  told  himself,  that  marriage  should  be 
consummated.  He  would  never  marry.  David 
Schwar  appeared  with  a  sheaf  of  papers,  which  he 
himself  proceeded  to  docket,  and  Howat  left  the 
counting  room. 

He  met  Ludowika  almost  immediately ;  she  ad- 
vanced more  simply  dressed  than  he  had  ever  seen 

71 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


her  before.  She  pointed  downward  to  the  water 
flashing  over  the  great,  turning  wheel.  "  Couldn't 
we  walk  along  the  rill?  There's  a  path,  and  it's 
beautiful  in  the  shadow."  The  stream  poured  solid 
and  green  through  the  narrow,  masoned  course  of 
the  forebay,  sweeping  in  a  lucent  arc  over  the  lip  of 
the  fall.  An  earthen  path  followed  the  artificial 
channel  through  a  dense  grove  of  young  maples, 
seeming  to  hold  the  sun  in  their  flame-coloured  foli- 
age. Myrtle  Forge  was  lost,  the  leaves  shut  out  the 
sky ;  underfoot  some  were  already  dead.  The  wilder- 
ness marched  up  to  the  edges  of  the  meagre  clearings. 

Ludowika  walked  ahead,  without  speech;  irregu- 
lar patches  of  ruddy  light  slid  over  her  flared  skirt. 
Suddenly  she  stopped  with  an  exclamation ;  the  trees 
opened  before  them  on  the  broad  Canary  sweeping 
between  flat  rocks,  banks  bluely  green.  Above,  the 
course  was  broken,  swift;  but  where  they  stood  it 
was  tranquil  again,  and  crystal  clear.  Yellow  rays 
plunging  through  the  unwrinkled  surface  gilded  the 
pebbles  on  the  shallower  bottom.  A  rock,  broad  and 
flat,  extended  into  the  stream  by  the  partial,  diag- 
onal dam  that  turned  the  water  into  Myrtle  Forge; 
and  Ludowika  found  a  seat  with  her  slippers  just 
above  the  current.  Howat  Penny  sat  beside  her, 
then  dropped  back  on  the  rocks,  his  hands  clasped 
behind  his  head. 

A  silence  intensified  by  the  whispering  stream  en- 
veloped them.  He  watched  a  hawk,  diminutive  on 
the  pale  immensity  above.  "  Heavens,"  Ludowika 
72 


THE  FURNACE 


finally  spoke,  "  how  wonderful  .  .  .  just  to  sit, 
not  to  be  bothered  by  —  by  things.  Just  to  hear 
the  water.  Far  away,"  she  said  dreamily ;  "  girl." 

From  where  he  lay  he  could  see  her  arms,  beauti- 
ful and  bare,  lost  in  soft  Holland  above  the  elbows; 
he  could  see  the  roundness  of  her  body  above  the 
lowest  of  stays.  Suddenly  she  fascinated  him ;  he 
visualized  her  sharply,  as  though  for  the  first  time 
—  a  warm,  intoxicating  entity.  He  was  profoundly 
disturbed,  and  sat  erect;  the  stream,  the  woods, 
blurred  in  his  vision.  He  felt  as  if  his  heart  had 
been  turned  completely  over  in  his  body ;  the  palms 
of  his  hands  were  wet.  He  had  a  momentary,  ab- 
surd impulse  to  run,  beyond  Shadrach  Furnace, 
beyond  any  distance  he  had  yet  explored,  farther 
even  than  St.  Xavier.  Ludowika  Winscombe  gazed 
in  serene,  unconscious  happiness  before  her.  He 
felt  that  his  face  was  crimson,  and  he  rose,  moved  to 
the  water's  edge,  his  back  toward  her.  He  was  in- 
furiated at  a  trembling  that  passed  over  him, 
damned  it  in  a  savage  and  inaudible  whisper. 

What  particularly  appalled  him  was  the  fact  that 
his  overmastering  sensation  came  without  the  slight- 
est volition  of  his  own.  He  had  had  nothing  to  do 
with  it,  his  will  was  powerless.  He  was  betrayed 
like  a  fortified  city  whose  gate  had  been  thrown  open 
by  an  unsuspected,  a  concealed,  traitor  inside.  In 
an  instant  he  had  been  invaded,  his  being  levelled, 
his  peculiar  pride  overthrown.  He  thought  even 
that  he  heard  a  dull  crash,  as  if  something  para- 

78 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


mount  had  irremediably  fallen,  something  that 
should  have  been  maintained  at  any  cost,  until  the 
end  of  life. 

Howat  felt  a  sudden  hatred  of  his  companion ;  but 
that  quickly  evaporated;  he  discovered  that  she  had 
spread,  like  a  drop  of  carmine  in  a  goblet  of  water, 
through  his  every  nerve.  By  God,  but  she  had  be- 
come himself!  In  the  space  of  a  breath  she  was  in 
his  blood,  in  his  brain;  calling  his  hands  about  her, 
toward  her  smooth,  beautiful  arms.  She  was  the 
scent  in  his  nostrils,  the  sound  a  breeze  newly  sprung 
up  stirred  out  of  the  leaves.  A  profound  melan- 
choly spread  over  him,  a  deep  sadness,  a  conviction 
of  loss.  Ludowika  was  singing  softly : 

"Last  Sunday  at  St.  James's  prayers 
—  dressed  in  all  my  whalebone  airs." 

He  had  come  on  disaster.  The  realization  flashed 
through  his  consciousness  and  was  engulfed  in  the 
submerging  of  his  being  in  the  overwhelming,  sting- 
ing blood  that  had  swept  him  from  his  old  security. 
Yet  he  had  been  so  detached  from  the  merging  influ- 
ences about  him,  his  organization  had  been  so  com- 
plete in  its  isolation,  his  egotism  so  developed,  that 
a  last  trace  of  his  entity  lingered  sentient,  viewing 
as  if  from  a  careened  but  still  tenable  deck  the  gen- 
eral submergence.  His  thoughts  returned  to  the 
automatic  operation  of  the  consummation  obliterat- 
ing his  person,  the  inexorable  blind  movement  of  the 
thing  in  which  he  had  been  caught,  dragged  into  the 
74 


THE  FURNACE 


maw  of  a  supreme  purpose.  It  was,  of  course,  the 
law  of  mere  procreation  which  he  had  before  con- 
temptuously recognized  and  dismissed ;  a  law  for  ani- 
mals ;  but  he  was  no  longer  entirely  an  animal.  Al- 
ready he  had  considered  the  possibility  of  an  addi- 
tional force  in  the  directing  of  human  passion, 
founded  on  something  beyond  the  thirst  of  flesh, 
founded  perhaps  on  soaring  companionships,  on  — 
on —  The  condition,  the  term,  he  was  searching  for 
evaded  him. 

He  thought  of  the  word  love;  and  he  was  struck 
by  the  vast  inaccuracy  of  that  large  phrase.  It 
meant,  Howat  told  himself,  literally  nothing:  what 
complex  feeling  Isabel  Penny  might  have  for  her 
husband,  Caroline's  frank  desire  for  David  For- 
sythe,  Myrtle's  meagre  emotion,  Fanny  Gilkan's 
sense  of  Hesa  and  life's  necessary  compromises,  his 
own  collapse  —  all  were  alike  called  love.  It  was 
not  only  a  useless  word  but  a  dangerous  falsity. 
It  had  without  question  cloaked  immense  harm,  pre- 
tence; it  had  perpetuated  old  lies,  brought  them 
plausibly,  as  if  in  a  distinguished  and  reputable  com- 
pany, out  of  past  superstitions  and  credulity;  the 
real  and  the  meaningless,  the  good  and  the  evil,  hope- 
lessly confused. 

They  were  seated  at  supper,  four  of  them  only; 
Isabel  and  Gilbert  Penny,  and,  opposite  him,  Ludo- 
wika.  Occasionally  he  would  glance  at  her,  sur- 
reptitiously; his  wrists  would  pound  with  an  irregu- 
lar, sultry  circulation ;  longing  would  harass  him  like 

75 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


the  beating  of  a  club.  She,  it  seemed  to  him,  grew 
gayer,  younger,  more  simple,  every  hour.  Happi- 
ness, peace,  radiated  in  her  gaze,  the  gestures  of  her 
hands.  Howat  wondered  at  what  moment  he  would 
destroy  it.  Reprehensible.  A  moment  must,  come 
—  soon  —  when  emotion  would  level  his  failing 
reserve,  his  falling  defences.  He  thrilled  at  the 
thought  of  the  inevitable  disclosure.  Would  she 
fight  against  it,  deny,  satirize  his  tumult;  or  sur- 
render? He  couldn't  see  clearly  into  that;  he  didn't 
care.  Then  he  wondered  about  the  premonition  of 
which  she  had  spoken,  deciding  to  ask  her  to  be  more 
explicit. 

An  opportunity  occurred  later.  Gilbert  Penny 
had  gone  down  to  the  Forge  store,  his  wife  had  dis- 
appeared. Ludowika  Winscombe  and  Howat  were 
seated  in  the  drawing  room.  Only  a  stand  of  can- 
dles was  lit  at  her  elbow;  her  face  floated  like  a  pale 
and  lovely  wafer  against  the  billowing  shadows  of 
the  chamber.  The  wood  on  the  iron  hearth  was 
charring  without  flame.  He  questioned  her  bluntly, 
suddenly,  out  of  a  protracted  silence.  She  regarded 
him  speculatively,  delaying  answer.  Then,  "  I 
couldn't  tell  you  like  this,  now ;  it  would  be  too  silly ; 
you  would  laugh  at  me.  I  hadn't  meant  to  say  even 
what  I  did.  I'd  prefer  to  ignore  it." 

"  What  did  you  mean,  what  premonition  came  to 
you  ?  "  he  insisted  crudely. 

She  seemed  to  draw  away  from  him,  increase  in 
years  and  an  attitude  of  tolerant  amusement.  Only 
76 


THE  FURNACE 


an  immediate  reply  would  save  them,  he  realized. 
He  leaned  forward  unsteadily,  with  clenched  hands. 
"  I  warned  you,"  she  proceeded  lightly ;  "  and  if  you 
do  laugh  my  pride  will  suffer."  In  spite  of  her  ob- 
vious determination  to  speak  indifferently  her  voice 
grew  serious.  "  I  had  a  feeling  that  you  mustn't 
kiss  me,  that  this  —  America,  the  Province,  Myrtle 
Forge,  you,  were  for  something  different.  You  see, 
I  had  always  longed  for  a  peculiar  experience,  re- 
lease, and  when  it  came,  miraculously,  I  thought,  it 
must  not  be  spoiled,  turned  into  the  old,  old  thing. 
That  was  all.  It  was  in  my  spirit,"  she  added  al- 
most defiantly,  as  if  that  claim  might  too  be  sus- 
ceptible of  derision. 

He  settled  back  into  his  chair,  turning  upon  her  a 
gloomy  vision.  Whatever  penalty  threatened  them, 
he  knew,  must  fall.  Nothing  existing  could  keep  him 
from  it.  He  felt  a  fleet  sorrow  for  her  in  the  inevi- 
table destruction  of  the  release  for  which  she  had  so 
long  searched,  her  new  peace,  so  soon  to  be  smashed. 
All  sorrow  for  himself  had  gone  under.  Isabel 
Penny  returned  to  the  drawing  room,  and  moved 
about,  her  flowered  silk  at  once  gay  and  obscure  in 
the  semidarkness.  "  The  fire,  Howat,"  she  directed ; 
"  it's  all  but  out."  He  stirred  the  logs  into  a  re- 
newed blaze. 

A  warm  gilding  flickered  over  Ludowika;  she 
smiled  at  him,  relaxed,  content.  He  was  surprised 
that  she  could  not  see  the  tumultuous  feeling  over- 
powering him.  He  had  heard  that  women  were  im- 

77 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 

mediately  aware  of  such  emotion.  But  he  realized 
that  she  had  been  lulled  into  a  false  sense  of  security, 
of  present  immunity  from  "  the  old,  old  thing," 
by  her  own  placidity.  He  did  not  know  when  his 
mother  left  the  room.  He  wondered  continuously 
when  it  would  happen,  when  the  bolt  would  fall,  what 
she  would  do.  Howat  was  hot  and  cold,  and  pos- 
sessed by  a  subtle  sense  of  improbity,  a  feeling  re- 
sembling that  of  a  doubtful  advance  through  the 
dark,  for  a  questionable  end.  This  was  the  least 
part  of  him,  insignificant ;  his  passion  grew  con- 
stantly stronger,  more  brutal.  In  a  last,  vanishing 
trace  of  his  superior  consciousness  he  recognized  that 
the  thing  must  have  happened  to  him  as  it  did;  it 
was  the  price  of  his  more  erect  pride,  his  greater 
contempt,  his  solitary  and  unspent  state. 

She  rose  suddenly  and  announced  that  she  was 
about  to  retire.  It  saved  them  for  the  moment,  for 
that  day;  he  muttered  something  incomprehensible 
and  she  was  gone. 

Isabel  Penny  returned  and  took  Mrs.  Winscombe's 
place  before  the  fire.  She  spoke  trivially,  at  random 
intervals.  A  great  longing  swept  over  him  to  tell 
his  mother  everything,  try  to  find  an  escape  in  her 
wise  counsel ;  but  his  emotion  seemed  so  ugly  that  he 
could  not  lay  it  before  her.  Besides,  he  had  a  con- 
viction that  it  would  be  hopeless :  he  was  gone.  She 
was  discussing  Ludowika  now.  "  Really,"  she  said, 
"  they  seem  very  well  matched,  a  good  arrange- 
ment." She  was  referring,  he  realized,  to  the  Wins- 
78 


THE  FURNACE 


combes'  experience.  He  never  thought  of  Felix 
Winscombe  as  married,  Ludowika's  husband ;  he  had 
ceased  to  think  of  him  at  all.  The  present  moment 
banished  everything  else.  "  She  has  a  quality  usu- 
ally destroyed  by  life  about  a  Court,"  the  leisurely 
voice  went  on ;  "  she  seems  quite  happy  here,  for  a 
little,  in  a  way  simple.  But,  curiously  enough,  she 
disturbs  your  father.  He  can't  laugh  with  her  as 
he  usually  does  with  attractive  women." 

It  was  natural,  Howat  thought,  that  Gilbert 
Penny  should  be  uneasy  before  such  a  direct  re- 
minder of  the  setting  from  which  he  had  taken  Isabel 
Howat.  It  was  a  life,  memories,  in  which  the  elder 
had  no  part;  that  consciousness  dictated  a  part  of 
his  father's  bitterness  toward  St.  James,  the  Royal 
Government.  But  Gilbert  Penny  had  never  had 
serious  reason  to  dread  it.  His  wife  had  left  it  all 
behind,  permanently,  without,  apparently,  a  regret. 
He  had  a  sudden,  astonishing  community  of  feeling 
with  the  older  man ;  a  momentary  dislike  of  St. 
James,  Versailles,  the  entire,  treacherous,  silk  mob. 
A  lover  at  fourteen !  Howat  damned  such  a  be- 
trayal with  a  bitterness  whose  base  lay  deeply  buried 
in  sex  jealousy. 

"  I  am  glad,"  the  other  continued,  "  that  you  are 
not  susceptible ;  I  suppose  you'll  be  off  hunting  in  at 
day  or  more;  Mrs.  Winscombe  is  bright  wine  for  a 
young  man.  Women  like  her  play  at  sensation,  like 
eating  figs."  He  thought  contemptuously  what 
nonsense  was  talked  in  connection  with  feminine  in- 

79 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PEN  NY S 


tuition;  it  was  nothing  more  than  a  polite  chimera, 
like  all  the  other  famous  morals  and  inhibitions  sup- 
posed to  serve  and  direct  mankind. 

He  wondered  once  more  about  his  mother,  what 
the  course  of  her  life  had  been  —  happily  occupied, 
filled,  or  merely  self-contained,  hiding  much  in  a 
deep,  even  flow?  Her  head  was  turned  away  from 
him,  and  he  could  see  the  girlish  profile,  the  astonish- 
ing illusion  of  youth  renewed.  Howat  wanted  to 
ask  her  how  she  had  experienced,  well  —  love,  since 
there  was  no  other  word.  It  had  come  to  her 
quickly,  he  knew;  her  affair  with  Gilbert  Penny  had 
been  headlong,  or  else  it  would  not  have  been  at  all ; 
yet  he  felt  she  had  not  been  the  victim  of  such  a 
tyranny  as  mastered  himself.  But,  perhaps,  after 
all,  secretly,  every  one  was  —  just  animal-like.  He 
repudiated  this  firmly,  at  once.  He  himself  had  felt 
that  he  was  not  entirely  animal. 

"  The  girls,"  Isabel  Penny  said,  "  will  be  gal- 
lopading  now.  Myrtle  has  a  new  dress,  her  father 
gave  it  to  her,  an  apricot  mantua." 

"  He's  really  idiotic  about  Myrtle,"  Howat  de- 
clared irritably.  His  mother  glanced  swiftly  at 
him.  She  made  no  comment.  "  Now  Caroline ! 
It's  Caroline  who  ought  to  marry  David  Forsythe." 

"  Such  things  must  fall  out  as  they  will." 

God,  that  was  true  enough,  terribly  true!     He 

rose  and   strode  into  the   farther  darkness   of  the 

drawing  room,  returning  to  the  fireplace,  marching 

away  again.     He  saw  the  white  glimmer  of  Ludo- 

80 


THE  FURNACE 


wika's  arms ;  he  had  a  vision  of  her  tying  the  broad 
ribbon  about  her  rounded,  silken  knee.  "...  a 
man  now,"  his  mother's  voice  was  distant,  blurred. 
"  Responsibilities ;  your  father  — "  He  had  heard 
this  before  without  being  moved;  but  suddenly  the 
words  had  a  new  actuality ;  he  was  a  man  now,  that 
was  to  say  he  stood  finally,  irrevocably,  alone,  be- 
yond assistance,  advice.  He  had  never  heeded 
them;  he  had  gone  a  high-handed,  independent  way, 
but  the  others  had  been  there;  unconsciously  he  had 
been  aware  of  them,  even  counted  on  them.  Now 
they  had  vanished. 

Caroline  and  Myrtle,  bringing  David  with  them 
again,  returned  on  the  following  morning.  It  seemed 
to  Howat  that  the  former  was  almost  lovely ;  she  had 
a  gayer  sparkle,  a  clearer  colour,  than  he  had  ever 
seen  her  possess  before.  On  the  other  hand,  Myrtle 
was  dull;  the  dress,  it  seemed,  had  not  been  the  un- 
qualified success  she  had  hoped  for.  Something 
newer  had  arrived  in  the  meantime  from  London. 
Ludowika,  it  developed,  had  one  of  the  later  sacques 
in  her  boxes ;  but  that,  she  said  indifferently,  must  be 
quite  dead  now.  It  seemed  to  Howat  that  she  too 
regarded  Myrtle  without  enthusiasm.  Ludowika 
and  Myrtle  had  had  very  little  to  say  to  each  other ; 
Myrtle  studied  Mrs.  Winscombe's  apparel  with  a 
keen,  even  belligerent,  eye;  the  other  patronized  the 
girl  in  a  species  of  half  absent  instruction. 

The  sky  was  flawless,  leaden  blue;  the  sunlight 
fell  in  an  enveloping  flood  over  the  countryside,  but 

81 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

it  was  pale,  without  warmth.  There  was  no  wind, 
not  a  leaf  turned  on  the  trees  —  a  sinuous  sheeting 
of  the  country-side  like  red-gold  armour.  But 
Howat  knew  that  at  the  first  stir  of  air  the  leaves 
would  be  in  stricken  flight,  the  autumn  accomplished. 
Caroline  dragged  him  impetuously  down  into  the 
garden,  among  the  brown,  varnished  stems  of  the 
withered  roses,  the  sere,  dead  ranks  of  scarlet  sage. 
"  He  hugged  me,"  she  told  him ;  "  I  was  quite  breath- 
less. It  was  in  a  hall,  dark ;  but  he  didn't  say  any- 
thing. What  do  you  think?"  There  was  nothing 
definite  that  he  might  express;  and  he  patted  her 
shoulder.  He  had  a  new  kinship  with  Caroline ; 
Howat  now  understood  her  tempest  of  feeling,  con- 
cealed beneath  her  commonplace  daily  aspect. 

Myrtle  and  David  joined  them,  and  he  left,  re- 
sumed his  place  at  the  high  desk  in  the  counting 
house.  Strangely  his  energy  of  being  communicated 
itself  to  the  prosaic  work  before  him.  It  was,  he 
suddenly  felt,  important  for  him  to  master  the  proc- 
esses of  Myrtle  Forge;  it  would  not  do  for  him  to 
remain  merely  irresponsible,  a  juvenile  appendage 
to  the  Penny  iron.  He  would  need  all  the  position, 
the  weight,  he  could  assume;  and  money  of  his  own. 
He  found  a  savage  pleasure  in  recording  every  de- 
tail put  before  him.  He  compared  the  value  of  pig 
metal,  the  cost  of  charcoal,  wages,  with  the  return 
of  the  blooms  and  anconies  they  shipped  to  England. 
Howat  experienced  his  father's  indignation  at  the 
manner  in  which  London  limited  the  Province's  in- 
82 


THE  FURNACE 


dustries.  For  the  first  time  he  was  conscious  of  an 
actual  interest  in  the  success  of  Myrtle  Forge,  a 
personal  concern  in  its  output.  He  had  always 
visualized  it  as  automatically  prosperous,  a  cause  of 
large,  inexact  pride ;  but  now  it  was  all  near  to  him ; 
he  considered  the  competition  rapidly  increasing 
here,  and  the  jealous  menace  over  seas. 

His  final  trace  of  careless  youth  had  gone;  he 
felt  the  advent  of  the  constant  apprehension  that 
underlies  all  maturity,  a  sense  of  the  proximity  of 
blind  accident,  evil  chance,  disaster.  At  last  he 
was  opposed  to  life  itself,  with  an  immense  stake  to 
gain,  to  hold;  in  the  midst  of  a  seething,  treacher- 
ous conflict  arbitrarily  ended  by  death.  There  was 
no  cringing,  absolutely  no  cowardice,  in  him.  He 
was  glad  that  it  was  all  immediately  about  him;  he 
was  arrogant  in  pressing  forward  to  take  what  he 
wanted  from  existence.  He  forgot  all  premonitions, 
doubt  was  behind  him ;  he  no  longer  gauged  the  value 
of  his  desire  for  Ludowika  Winscombe.  She  was 
something  he  would,  had  to,  have. 

David  Forsythe  sat  across  the  back  of  a  chair  in 
Howat's  room  as  the  latter  dressed  in  the  rapidly 
failing  light.  David  had  smuggled  his  London  coat 
with  the  wired  tails  out  to  Myrtle  Forge,  and  had  the 
stiffened  portion  now  spread  smoothly  out  on  either 
side.  His  cheerful,  freshly-coloured  face  was  trou- 
bled ;  he  seemed  constantly  on  the  point  of  break- 
ing into  speech  without  actually  becoming  audible. 
Howat  was  thinking  of  Ludowika.  It  would  hap- 

83 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


pen    to-night,   he   knew.     He   was    at    once    appre- 
hensive and  glad. 

"  You  knew,"  David  ventured  finally,  "  that  I'm 
supposed  to  ask  Myrtle  to  marry  me.  That  is,  your 
father  and  mine  hoped  I  would.  Well,"  he  drew 
a  deep  breath,  "  I  don't  think  I  shall.  Of  course, 
she  is  one  of  the  prettiest  girls  any  one  ever  saw,  and 
she's  quite  bright  —  it's  wonderful  what  she  has 
picked  up  about  the  Furnace,  but  yet  — "  his  speech 
suddenly  ran  out.  With  an  effort  Howat  brought 
himself  back  from  his  own  vastly  more  important 
concern.  "  Yes  ? "  he  queried,  pausing  with  his 
fingers  in  the  buttonholes  of  a  mulberry  damask 
coat.  "  I  have  decided  to  choose,  to  act,  for  my- 
self," David  announced ;  "  this  is  a  thing  where  every 
man  must  be  absolutely  free. —  Caroline  can  have  me 
if  she  likes." 

Howat  could  not  avoid  a  momentary,  inward 
flicker  of  amusement  at  David  Forsythe's  absolute 
freedom  of  choice.  He  felt  infinitely  older  than  the 
other,  wiser  in  the  circuitous  mysteries  of  being. 
He  pounded  David  on  the  back,  exclaimed,  "  Good !  " 

"  I  don't  know  whether  to  speak  to  Abner,"  the 
other  proceeded  unfilially,  "  or  the  great  Penny  first. 
I  don't  care  too  much  for  either  job.  It  would  be 
pleasanter  to  go  to  Caroline.  I  have  an  idea  she 
doesn't  exactly  dislike  me." 

"  Perhaps  I  oughtn't  to  tell  you,"  Howat  replied 
gravely ;  "  but  Caroline  thinks  a  lot  of  you.     She 
has  admitted  it  to  me  — " 
84 


David  Forsythe  danced  agilely  about  the  more 
serious  figure;  he  kicked  Howat  gaily  from  behind, 
ironically  patted  his  cheek.  "  Hell's  buttons !  "  he 
cried.  "  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  that  before?  You 
cast  iron  ass!  I'll  marry  Caroline  if  I  have  to  take 
her  to  a  charcoal  burner's  hut.  She  would  go,  too." 

Howat  Penny  gripped  the  other's  shoulder,  faced 
him  with  grim  determination.  "  Do  you  fully 
realize  that  Myrtle  Forge,  Shadrach,  will  be  us? 
They  will  be  ours  and  our  wives'  and  childrens'.  We 
must  stand  together,  David,  whatever  happens,  what- 
ever we  may,  personally,  think.  The  iron  is  big 
now,  but  it  is  going  to  be  great.  We  mustn't  fail, 
fall  apart.  We'll  need  each  other;  there's  going 
to  be  trouble,  I  think." 

David  put  out  his  hand.  "  I  didn't  know  you  felt 
like  that,  Howat,"  he  replied,  the  effervescent  youth 
vanished  from  him  too.  "  It's  splendid.  We'll 
hammer  out  some  good  blooms  together.  And  for 
the  other,  nothing  shall  ever  make  a  breach  be- 
tween us." 


85 


VI 

/  •  AHEY  went  down  to  the  supper  table  silently, 
absorbed  in  thought.  David  was  placed 

JL.  where  Mr.  Winscombe  had  been  seated,  on 
Mrs.  Penny's  right,  and  next  to  Myrtle.  Gilbert 
Penny  maintained  a  flow  of  high  spirits;  he  rallied 
every  one  at  the  table  with  the  exception  of,  Howat 
noted,  Ludowika.  Her  hair  was  simply  arranged 
and  undecorated,  she  wore  primrose  with  gauze  like 
smoke,  an  apparently  guileless  bodice  with  blurred, 
warm  suggestions  of  her  fragrant  body.  Howat  was 
conscious  of  every  detail  of  her  appearance ;  she  was 
stamped,  as  she  was  that  evening,  indelibly  on  his 
inner  being.  He  turned  toward  her  but  little,  ad- 
dressed to  her  only  the  most  perfunctory  remarks; 
he  was  absorbed  in  the  realization  that  the  most 
fateful  moment  he  had  met  was  fast  approaching. 
His  father's  cheerful  voice  continued  seemingly  inter- 
minably ;  now  it  was  a  London  beauty  to  which  he 
affected  to  believe  David  had  given  his  heart.  The 
latter  replied  stoutly: 

"  I  brought  that  back  safely  enough ;  it's  here  the 
danger  lies.  Humiliating  to  cross  the  ocean  and 
then  be  lost  in  Canary  Creek." 

Gilbert  Penny  shot  an  obvious,  humorous  glance 
86 


THE  FURNACE 


at  Myrtle.  She  did  not  meet  it,  but  sat  with  lowered 
gaze.  Caroline  made  a  daring  "  nose  "  at  Howat ; 
but  he  too  failed  to  acknowledge  her  message. 
David's  affair  had  sunk  from  his  thoughts.  The 
drawing  room  was  brilliantly  lighted:  there  was  a 
constant  stir  of  peacock  silk,  of  yellow  and  apple 
green  and  coral  lutestring,  of  white  shoulders,  in  the 
gold  radiance  of  candles  like  stiff  rows  of  narcissi. 
Caroline  drifted  finally  into  the  chamber  back  of  the 
dining  room,  and  they  could  hear  the  tenuous  vibra- 
tions of  the  clavichord.  Soon  David  had  disap- 
peared. The  elder  Penny  discovered  Myrtle  seated 
sullenly  at  her  mother's  side;  and,  taking  her  arm, 
he  escorted  her  in  the  direction  of  the  suddenly 
silenced  music. 

Ludowika  sat  on  a  small  couch  away  from  the  fire- 
place. She  smiled  at  Howat  as  he  moved  closer  to 
her.  She  never  did  things  with  her  hands,  he 
noticed,  like  the  women  of  his  family,  embroidery  or 
work  on  little  heaps  of  white.  She  sat  motionless, 
her  arms  at  rest.  His  mother  seemed  far  away. 
The  pounding  recommenced  unsteadily  at  his  wrists, 
the  room  wavered  in  his  vision.  Ludowika  perme- 
ated him  like  a  deep  draught  of  intoxicating,  yellow 
wine.  He  had  a  curious  sensation  of  floating  in  air, 
of  tea  roses.  It  was  clear  that,  folded  in  happy 
contentment,  she  still  realized  nothing.  .  .  .  She 
must  know  now,  any  minute.  Howat  saw  that  his 
mother  had  gone. 

He  rose  and  stood  before  Ludowika,  leaning 

87 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

slightly  over  her.  She  raised  her  gaze  to  his;  her 
interrogation  deepened.  Then  her  expression 
changed,  clouded,  her  lips  parted;  she  half  raised  a 
hand.  Her  breast  rose  and  fell,  sharply,  once. 
Howat  picked  her  up  by  the  shoulders  and  crushed 
her,  silk  and  cool  gauze  and  mouth,  against  him. 
Ludowika's  skirts  billowed  about,  half  hid,  him;  a 
long  silence,  a  long  kiss. 

Her  head  fell  back  with  a  sigh,  she  drooped  again 
upon  the  sofa.  She  hadn't  struggled,  exclaimed ; 
even  now  there  was  no  revolt  in  her  countenance, 
only  a  deep  trouble.  "  Howat,"  she  said  softly, 
"  you  shouldn't  have  done  that.  It  was  brutal, 
selfish.  You  —  you  knew,  after  all  that  I  told  you ; 
the  premonition — "  she  broke  off,  anger  shone 
brighter  in  her  eyes.  "  How  detestable  men  are !  " 
She  turned  away  from  him,  her  profile  against  the 
brocade  of  the  sofa.  Unexpectedly  he  was  almost 
cold,  and  self-contained ;  he  saw  the  gilded  angle 
of  a  frame  on  the  wall,  heard  the  hickory  disinte- 
grating on  the  hearth. 

He  had  kissed  her  as  a  formal  declaration;  what 
must  come  would  come.  "  I  was  an  imbecile,"  she 
spoke  in  a  voice  at  once  listless  and  touched  with 
bitterness ;  "  Arcadia,"  she  laughed.  "  I  thought  it 
was  different  here,  that  you  were  different ;  that  feel- 
ing in  my  heart  —  but  it's  gone  now,  dead.  I  sup- 
pose I  should  thank  you.  But,  do  you  know,  I  re- 
gret it;  I  would  rather  have  stayed  at  St.  James  all 
my  life  and  kept  that  single  little  delusion,  longing. 
88 


THE  FURNACE 


The  premonition  was  nonsense,  too ;  nothing  new, 
unexpected,  can  happen.  Kisses  are  almost  the 
oldest  things  in  the  world,  kisses  and  their  results. 
What  is  there  to  be  afraid  of?  You  see,  I  learned 
it  all  quite  young. 

"  I  am  an  imbecile ;  only  it  came  so  suddenly. 
You  would  laugh  at  me  if  you  knew  what  I  was 
thinking.  I  can  even  manage  a  smile  at  myself." 
She  appeared  older,  the  Mrs.  Winscombe  who  had 
first  come  to  Myrtle  Forge ;  her  mouth  was  flippant. 
"  The  eternal  Suzanna,"  she  remarked,  "  the  monot- 
onous elders  or  younger."  He  paid  little  heed  to 
her  words;  the  coldness,  the  indifference,  were  fast 
leaving  him.  His  heart  was  like  the  trip  hammer  at 
the  Forge.  Yellow  wine.  He  was  still  standing 
above  her,  and  he  took  her  hands  in  his.  She  put 
up  her  face  with  a  movement  of  bravado,  of  mock- 
ery, which  he  ignored. 

"  I  didn't  choose  it,"  he  told  her ;  "  it's  ruined  all 
that  I  was.  Now,  I  don't  care;  there  is  nothing 
else.  One  thing  you  are  wrong  about  —  if  there 
had  been  another  in  your  life  like  myself  you 
wouldn't  be  here  with  —  as  you  are.  I'm  certain  of 
that.  It's  the  only  thing  I  do  know.  My  feeling 
may  be  a  terrible  misfortune;  I  didn't  make  it;  I 
can't  see  the  end.  There  isn't  any,  I  think."  He 
pressed  her  hands  to  his  throat  with  a  gesture  that 
half  dragged  her  from  the  sofa.  A  deeper  colour 
stained  her  cheeks,  and  her  breath  caught.  "  End- 
less," he  repeated,  losing  the  word  on  her  lips.  She 

89 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


wilted  into  a  corner  of  the  sofa,  and  he  strode  over 
to  the  fire,  stood  gazing  blindly  at  the  pulsating  em- 
bers. Howat  returned  to  her  almost  immediately, 
but  she  made  no  sign  of  his  nearness.  The  bitter- 
ness had  left  her  face,  she  appeared  weary,  pallid; 
she  sat  heedlessly  crumpling  her  flounces,  a  hand 
bent  back  on  its  wrist. 

"  I  think  it  is  something  in  myself,"  she  said 
presently ;  "  something  a  little  wrong  that  I'm  dread- 
fully tired  of.  Always  men.  Out  here  a  Howat 
Penny,  just  like  any  fribble  about  the  Court.  God, 
I'd  like  to  be  that  girl  across  the  road,  in  the  barn- 
yard." He  was  back  at  the  fire  again  when  Gilbert 
Penny  entered  the  room.  The  latter  dropped  a 
palm  on  Howat's  shoulder. 

"  Schwar  says  the  last  sow  metal  was  faulty,"  he 
declared ;  "  the  Furnace'll  need  some  attention  with 
Abner  Forsythe  deeper  in  the  Provincial  affairs. 
Splendid  thing  David's  back.  Look  for  a  lot  from 
David."  Howat  hoped  desperately  that  Ludowika 
would  not  leave,  go  to  her  room,  while  his  father  was 
talking.  "  David  says  you  have  an  understanding, 
will  do  great  things.  I  hope  so.  I  hope  so.  I 
won't  damn  him  as  an  example  but  he  will  do  you  no 
harm.  That  is,  if  he  touches  your  confounded  per- 
son at  all.  A  black  Penny,  Mrs.  Winscombe,"  he 
said,  turning  to  the  figure  spread  in  pale  silk  on  the 
sofa.  "  Fortunate  for  you  to  have  no  such  con- 
founded, stubborn  lot  on  your  hands.  Although," 
he  added  laughingly,  "  Felix  Winscombe's  no  broken 
90 


THE  FURNACE 


reed.  But  this  boy  of  mine  —  you  might  think  he 
had  been  run  out  of  Shadrach,"  he  tapped  a  finger 
on  Howat's  back.  "  Not  like  those  fellows  about  the 
Court,  anyway.  They  tell  me  he'll  go  fifty  miles 
through  the  woods  in  a  day.  Now  if  we  could  only 
keep  that  at  the  iron  trade  — " 

His  father  went  on  insufferably,  without  end. 
Howat  withdrew  stiffly  from  the  other's  touch.  Ir- 
resistibly he  drifted  back,  back  to  Ludowika.  She 
had  not  moved;  her  bent  hand  seemed  dislocated. 
An  immense  tenderness  for  her  overwhelmed  him ;  his 
sheer  passion  vapourized  into  a  poignant  sweetness 
of  solicitous  feeling.  He  was  protective;  his  jaw 
set  rigidly,  he  enveloped  her  in  an  angry  barrier 
from  all  the  world.  He  had  a  sensation  of  standing 
at  bay ;  in  his  mulberry  damask,  in  brocade  and 
silver  buttons,  he  had  an  impression  of  himself 
stooped  and  savage,  confronting  a  menacing  dark 
with  Ludowika  flung  behind  him.  Inexplicable 
tremors  assailed  him,  vast  fears.  His  father's  de- 
liberate voice  destroyed  the  illusion;  he  saw  the 
candles  about  him  like  white  and  yellow  flowers,  the 
suave  interior.  The  others  had  returned.  He 
heard  Ludowika  speaking;  she  laughed.  His  ten- 
sion relaxed.  Suddenly  he  was  flooded  with  happi- 
ness, as  if  he  had  been  drenched  in  sparkling,  de- 
lightful water.  He  joined  in  the  gay,  trivial 
clamour  that  arose.  Isabel  Penny  gazed  at  him 
speculatively. 

There  would,  it  appeared,  be  no  other  opportunity 

91 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


that  evening  for  him  to  declare  himself  to  Ludowika. 
He  was  vaguely  conscious  of  his  mother's  scrutiny; 
he  must  avoid  exposing  Ludowika  to  any  uncom- 
fortable surmising.  His  thoughts  leaped  forward  to 
a  revelation  that  he  began  to  feel  was  inevitable;  he 
got  even  now  a  tangible  pleasure  from  the  consider- 
ation of  an  announcement  of  his  passion  for  Ludo- 
wika Winscombe,  a  sheer  insistence  upon  it  in 
the  face  of  an  antagonistic  world.  But  for  the 
present  he  must  be  careful.  This,  the  greatest 
event  that  had  befallen  him,  summed  up  all  that  he 
innately  was;  it  expressed  him,  a  black  Penny,  ab- 
solutely ;  Howat  felt  the  distance  between  himself, 
his  convictions,  and  the  convictions  of  the  world, 
immeasurably  widening.  His  feeling  for  Ludowika 
symbolized  his  isolation  from  the  interwoven  fabric 
of  the  plane  of  society;  it  gave  at  last  a  tangible 
bulk  to  his  scorn. 

As  he  had  feared,  presently  she  rose  and  went  to 
her  room.  Myrtle  took  her  place  on  the  sofa. 
Gilbert  Penny  vanished  with  a  broad  witticism  at 
the  well  known  preference  of  youth,  in  certain  situ- 
ations, for  its  own  council.  David  Forsythe  made 
a  wry  face  at  Howat.  Caroline  gaily  laid  her 
arm  across  her  mother's  shoulder  and  propelled  her 
from  the  room.  David  stood  awkwardly  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  floor ;  and  Howat,  hardly  less  clumsy,  took 
his  departure.  He  found  Caroline  awaiting  him  in 
the  shadow  of  his  door ;  she  followed  him  and  stood 
silent  while  he  made  a  light.  Her  face  was  serious, 
92 


and  her  hands  clasped  tightly.  "  Howat,"  she  said 
in  a  small  voice,  "  it's  —  it's,  that  is,  David  loves  me. 
Whatever  do  you  suppose  father  and  Myrtle  will 
say?" 

"  What  do  you  think  David  is  saying  to  Myrtle 
now?  "  he  asked  drily.  "  I  am  glad,  Caroline ;  every- 
thing worked  out  straight  for  you.  David  is  a 
damned  good  Quaker.  For  some  others  life  isn't 
so  easy."  She  laid  a  warm  hand  on  his  shoulder. 
"  I  wish  you  were  happy,  Howat."  A  slight  irri- 
tation seized  him  at  the  facile  manner  in  which  she 
radiated  her  satisfaction,  and  he  moved  away. 
"  David's  going  back  to-night.  I  wish  he  wouldn't," 
she  said  troubled.  "  That  long,  dark  way.  Any- 
thing might  happen.  But  he  has  simply  got  to  be 
at  his  father's  office  in  the  morning.  He  is  going 
to  speak  to  him  first,  see  what  will  be  given  us  at 
the  Furnace." 

"  It  should  be  quite  a  family  party  at  breakfast," 
Howat  predicted. 


VII 

HE  was  entirely  right.  Ludowika  rarely  ap- 
peared so  early;  Myrtle's  face  seemed  wan 
and  pinched,  and  her  father  rallied  her  on 
her  indisposition  after  what  should  have  been  an 
entrancing  evening.  She  declared  suddenly,  "  I 
hate  David  Forsy the !  "  Gilbert  Penny  was  obvi- 
ously startled.  Caroline  half  rose,  as  if  she  had  fin- 
ished breakfast;  but  she  sat  down  again  with  an  ex- 
pression of  determination.  Howat  looked  about 
from  his  removed  place  of  being.  "I  do !  "  Myrtle 
repeated.  "  At  first  he  seemed  to  like  —  I  mean  I 
liked  him,  and  then  everything  changed,  got  horrid. 
Some  one  interfered."  Resentment,  suspicion, 
dominated  her,  she  grew  shrill  with  anger.  "  I  saw 
him  making  faces  at  Howat,  as  if  he  and  Howat,  as 
if  Howat  had,  well — " 

"  Don't  generalize,"  said  Howat  coolly ;  "  be  par- 
ticular." 

"  As  if  you  had  deliberately  spoiled  any  chance, 
yes,"  she  declared  defiantly,  "  any  chance  I  had." 

"  That's     ridiculous,"     Gilbert     Penny     declared. 

"  What,"  he  asked  his  wife,  "  are  they  all  driving 

at?"     She     professed     herself     equally     puzzled. 

"  Howat    would    say    nothing    disadvantageous    to 

94 


THE  FURNACE 


young  Forsythe.  He  knows  what  we  all  hope." 
Caroline  suddenly  leaned  forward,  speaking  in  a 
level  voice :  "  This  has  nothing  to  do  with  Howat, 
but  with  me.  I  am  going  to  tell  you  at  once,  so 
that  you  can  all  say  what  you  wish,  get  as  angry  as 
you  like,  and  then  accept  what  —  what  had  to  be. 
David  and  I  love  each  other;  we  are  going  to  be 
married." 

Gilbert  Penny's  surprise  slowly  gave  place  to  a 
dark  tide  suffusing  his  countenance.  "  You  and 
David,"  he  half  stuttered,  "  getting  married  —  like 
that."  Myrtle  was  rigid  in  an  indignation  that  left 
her  momentarily  without  speech.  Mrs.  Penny, 
Howat  saw,  drew  into  the  slight  remoteness  from 
which  she  watched  the  conflicts  of  her  family.  "  I 
know  I'm  fearfully  bold,  yes,  indecent,"  Caroline 
went  on,  "  and  undutiful,  impertinent.  I'm  sorry, 
truly,  for  that.  Perhaps  you'll  forgive  me,  later. 
But  I  won't  apologize  for  loving  David." 

"  Incredible,"  her  father  pronounced.  "  A  girl 
announcing,  without  the  slightest  warrant  or  au- 
thority, that  she  intends  to  marry.  And  trampling 
on  her  sister's  heart  in  the  bargain."  Howat  ex- 
postulated, "  What  does  it  matter  which  he  marries  ? 
The  main  affair  is  to  consolidate  the  families." 
The  elder  glared  at  him.  "  Be  silent ! ".  he  com- 
manded. Howat  Penny's  ever  present  resentment 
rose  to  the  surface.  "  I  am  not  a  girl,"  he  stated ; 
"  nor  yet  a  nigger.  And,  personally,  I  think  David 
was  extremely  wise." 

95 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


"  I  was  sure  of  it,"  Myrtle  cried ;  "he  —  he  has 
talked  against  me,  helped  Caroline  behind  my  back." 
She  sobbed  thinly,  with  her  arm  across  her  eyes. 
"  If  I  thought  anything  like  that  had  occurred," 
their  father  asserted,  "  Howat  would  — "  he  paused, 
gazing  heavily  about  at  his  family. 

Howat's  ill  temper  arose.  "  Yes  — ?  "  he  de- 
manded with  a  sharp  inflection.  "  Be  still,  Howat," 
his  mother  said  unexpectedly.  "  This  is  all  very  re- 
grettable, Gilbert,"  she  told  her  husband ;  "  but  it  is 
an  impossible  subject  of  discussion."  Gilbert  Penny 
continued  hotly,  "  He  wouldn't  stay  about  here." 
She  replied  equably,  "  On  the  contrary,  Howat  shall 
be  at  Myrtle  Forge  until  he  himself  chooses  to 
leave." 

Howat  was  conscious  of  a  surprise  almost  as  mov- 
ing as  that  pictured  on  his  father's  countenance. 
He  had  never  heard  Isabel  Penny  speak  in  that  man- 
ner before ;  perhaps  at  last  she  would  reveal  what  he 
had  long  speculated  over  —  her  true,  inner  situ^ 
ation.  But  he  saw  at  once  that  he  was  to  be  again 
disappointed ;  the  speaker  was  immediately  enveloped 
in  her  detachment,  the  air  that  seemed  almost  one  of 
a  spectator  in  the  Penny  household.  She  smiled  de- 
precatingly.  How  fine  she  was,  Howat  thought. 
Gilbert  Penny  did  not  readily  recover  from  his  con- 
sternation ;  his  surprise  had  notably  increased  to 
that.  His  mouth  was  open,  his  face  red.  and  agi- 
tated. "  Before  the  children,  Isabel,"  he  com- 
plained. "  Don't  know  what  to  think.  Surely, 
96 


THE  FURNACE 


surely,  you  don't  uphold  Howat?  Outrageous  con- 
duct if  it's  true.  And  Myrtle  so  gentle,  never  hurt 
any  one  in  her  life."  Myrtle  circled  the  table,  and 
found  a  place  in  his  arms.  "  If  they  had  only  told 
me,"  she  protested.  "  If  Caroline  — "  He  patted 
her  flushed  cheeks.  "  Don't  give  it  another 
thought,"  he  directed ;  "  a  girl  as  pretty  as  you ! 
I'll  take  you  to  London,  where  you'll  have  a  string 
of  men,  not  Quakers,  fine  as  peacocks."  He  bent 
his  gaze  on  his  son. 

*'  Didn't  I  tell  you  last  evening  that  the  cast  metal 
has  been  light  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  Must  I  beg  you 
to  go  to  the  Furnace?  Or  perhaps  that  too  conflicts 
with  your  mother's  fears  for  you.  There  are 
stumps  in  the  road."  There  was  a  whisper  of  skirts 
at  the  door,  and  Ludowika  Winscombe  stood  smiling 
at  them.  Myrtle  turned  her  tear-swollen  face  upon 
her  father's  shoulder.  Howat  wondered  if  Ludo- 
wika had  slept.  He  endeavoured  in  vain  to  dis- 
cover from  her  serene  countenance  something  of  her 
thoughts  of  what  had  occurred.  He  had  a  sudden 
inspiration. 

"  I  can  go  to  Shadrach  as  soon  as  Adam  saddles 
a  horse,"  he  told  his  father.  "  You  were  curious 
about  the  Furnace,"  he  added  to  Ludowika,  masking 
the  keen  anxiety  he  felt  at  what  was  to  follow ;  "  it's 
a  sunny  day,  a  pleasant  ride."  She  answered  with- 
out a  trace  of  feeling  other  than  a  casual  politeness. 
"  Thank  you,  since  it  will  be  my  only  opportunity. 
I'll  have  to  change."  She  was  gazing,  Howat  dis- 

97 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

covered,  lightly  at  Isabel  Penny.  "  I  must  get  the 
figures  from  Schwar,"  his  father  said.  Before  he 
left  the  room  he  moved  to  his  wife's  side,  rested  his 
hand  on  her  shoulder.  She  looked  up  at  him  with  a 
reassuring  nod.  Howat  saw  that,  whatever  it  might 
be,  the  bond  between  them  was  secure,  stronger  than 
any  differences  of  prejudices  or  blood,  more  potent 
than  time  itself.  The  group,  the  strain,  about  the 
table,  broke  up. 

The  horses  footed  abreast  over  the  road  that 
crossed  the  hills  and  forded  the  watered  swales  be- 
tween Myrtle  Forge  and  the  Furnace.  Ludowika, 
riding  astride,  enveloped  and  hooded  in  bottle  green, 
had  her  face  muffled  in  a  linen  riding  mask.  He 
wondered  vainly  what  expression  she  bore.  Speech 
he  found  unexpectedly  difficult.  His  passion  mounted 
and  mounted  within  him,  all  his  being  swept  unresist- 
ingly in  its  tide.  Howat  said  at  last : 

"  Arc  you  still  so  angry  at  life,  at  yourself  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied ;  "  I  slept  that  foolishness  away. 
I  must  have  sounded  like  a  character  in  The  Lying 
Valet"  Her  present  mood  obscurely  troubled  him; 
he  infinitely  preferred  her  in  the  pale  crumpled  silk 
and  candle  light  of  the  evening  before.  "  I  wish  I 
could  tell  you  what  I  feel,"  he  said  moodily. 

"Why  not?"  she  replied.  (k  It's  the  most  amus- 
ing thing  possible.  You  advance  and  I  seem  to  re- 
treat ;  you  reach  forward  and  grasp  —  my  fan,  a 
handful  of  petticoat ;  you  protest  and  sulk  — " 

"  Perhaps  in  Vauxhall,"  he  interrupted  her  sav- 
98 


THE  FURNACE 


agely,  "  but  not  here,  not  like  that,  not  with  me. 
This  is  not  a  gavotte.  I  didn't  want  it ;  I  tried  to 
get  away ;  but  it,  you,  had  me  in  a  breath.  At  once 
it  was  all  over.  God  knows  what  it  is.  Call  it  love. 
It  isn't  a  thing  under  a  hedge,  I  tell  you  that,  for 
an  hour.  It's  stronger  than  anything  else  that  will 
ever  touch  me,  it  will  last  longer.  .  .  .  Like  falling 
into  a  river.  Perhaps  I'm  different,  a  black  Penny, 
but  what  other  men  take  like  water,  a  woman,  is 
brandy  for  me.  I'm  —  I'm  not  used  to  it.  I 
haven't  wanted  Kate  here  and  Mary  there ;  but  only 
you.  I've  got  to  have  you,"  he  said  with  a  marked 
simplicity.  "  I've  got  to,  or  there  will  be  a  bad 
smash." 

Ludowika  rode  silently,  hid  in  her  mask.  He 
urged  his  horse  closer  to  her,  and  laid  a  hand  on  her 
swaying  shoulder.  "  I  didn't  choose  this,"  he  re- 
peated ;  "  the  blame's  somewhere  else."  He  felt  a 
tremor  run  through  her.  "Why  say  blame?"  she 
finally  answered.  "  I  hate  moralities  and  excuses 
and  tears.  If  you  are  set  on  being  gloomy,  and 
talking  to  heaven  about  damnation,  take  it  all 
away  from  me."  A  shadow  moved  across  the  coun- 
tryside, and  he  saw  clouds  rising  out  of  the  north. 
A  sudden  wind  swept  through  the  still  forest,  and  im- 
mediately the  air  was  aflame  with  rushing  autumn 
leaves.  They  fell  across  Howat's  face  and  eddied 
about  the  horses'  legs.  The  grey  bank  deepened  in 
space,  the  sun  vanished ;  the  wind  was  bleak.  It 
seemed  to  Howat  Penny  that  the  world  had  changed, 

99 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 

its  gold  stricken  to  dun  and  gaunt  branches,  in  an 
instant.  The  road  descended  to  the  clustered  stone 
houses  about  Shadrach  Furnace. 

The  horses  were  left  under  the  shed  of  the  smithy 
at  the  primitive  cross  roads.  Thomas  Gilkan  had 
gone  to  the  river  about  a  purchase  of  casting  sand, 
but  expected  to  be  back  for  the  evening  run  of  metal. 
Fanny  was  away,  Howat  learned,  visiting  Dan  Hesa's 
family.  They  would,  of  course,  have  dinner  at  the 
Heydricks ;  and  the  latter  sent  a  boy  home  to  pre- 
pare his  wife.  Ludowika  and  Howat  aimlessly  fol- 
lowed the  turning  road  that  mounted  to  the  coal 
house.  A  levelled  and  beaten  path,  built  up  with 
stone,  led  out  to  the  top  of  the  stack,  where  a  group 
of  sooty  figures  were  gathered  about  the  clear,  al- 
most smokeless  flame  of  the  blast.  Below  they 
lingered  on  the  grassy  edge  of  the  stream  banked 
against  the  hillside  and  flooding  smoothly  to  the 
clamorous  fall  and  revolving  wheel  by  the  wood  shed 
that  covered  the  bellows.  Pointed  downward  the 
latter  spasmodically  discharged  a  rush  of  air  with 
a  vast  creasing  of  their  dusty  leather.  A  procession 
of  men  were  wheeling  and  dumping  slag  into  a  dreary 
area  beyond.  There  was  a  stir  of  constant  life 
about  the  Furnace,  voices  calling,  the  ringing  of 
metal  on  metal,  the  creak  of  barrows,  dogs  bark- 
ing. The  plaintive  melody  of  a  German  song  rose 
on  the  air. 

Behind  a  blood  red  screen  of  sumach  Howat  again 
kissed  Ludowika.  Her  arms  tightened  about  his 
100 


THE  FURNACE 


neck ;  she  raised  her  face  to  him  with  an  abandon 
that  blinded  him  to  the  world  about,  and  his  entire 
being  was  drawn  in  an  agony  of  desire  to  his  lips. 
She  sank  limply  into  his  rigid  embrace,  a  warm  sensu- 
ous burden  with  parted  lips. 

At  the  Heydricks  he  ate  senselessly  whatever 
was  placed  before  him.  The  house,  solidly  built  of 
grey  stone  traced  with  iron,  had  two  rooms  on  the 
lower  floor.  The  table  was  set  before  a  fireplace 
that  filled  the  length  of  the  wall,  its  mantel  a  great, 
roughly  squared  log  mortared  into  the  stones  on 
either  side.  Small  windows  opened  through  deep  em- 
brasures, a  door  bound  with  flowering,  wrought 
hinges  faced  the  road,  and  a  narrow  flight  of  stairs, 
with  a  polished  rail  and  white  post,  led  above.  Mrs. 
Heydrick,  a  large  woman  in  a  capacious  Holland 
apron  and  worsted  shoes,  moved  about  the  table  with 
steaming  pewter  trenchards  while  Heydrick  and  their 
guests  dined. 

Howat  Penny's  face  burned  as  if  from  a  violent 
fever;  his  veins,  it  seemed,  were  channels  through 
which  ran  burning  wine.  He  was  deafened  by  the 
tumult  within  him.  Heydrick's  voice  sounded  flat 
and  blurred.  They  were  conscious  at  Shadrach  of 
the  thin  quality  of  the  last  metal.  The  charge  had 
been  poorly  made  up;  he,  Heydrick,  had  said  at 
once,  when  the  cinders  had  come  out  black,  that  the 
lime  had  been  short.  His  words  fled  through 
Howat's  brain  like  racing  birds ;  the  latter's  motions 
were  unsteady,  inexact. 

101 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

The  clouds  had  now  widened  in  a  sagging  plain 
across  the  sky,  some  scattered  rain  pattered  coldly 
on  the  fallen  leaves.  It  was  pleasant  before  the 
hickory  burning  in  the  deep  fireplace;  the  Heydricks 
had  taken  for  granted  that  they  would  wait  there 
for  Thomas  Gilkan,  and  they  protested  when  Howat 
and  Ludowika  moved  toward  the  door.  But  Howat 
was  restless  beyond  any  possibility  of  patiently 
hearing  Mrs.  Heydrick's  cheerful,  trivial  talk.  He 
was  so  clumsy  with  Ludowika's  cloak  that  she  took 
it  from  him,  and,  with  a  careless,  feminine  scorn  in 
common  with  Mrs.  Heydrick,  got  into  it  without  as- 
sistance. They  stood  for  a  while  in  the  cast  house, 
watching  a  keeper  rolling  and  preparing  the  pig 
bed  for  the  evening  flow.  They  were  pressed  close 
together  in  a  profound  gloom  of  damp  warmth  rising 
from  the  wet  sand  and  furnace.  An  obscure  figure 
moved  a  heavy  and  faintly  clanging  pile  of  tamping 
bars.  The  sound  of  rain  on  the  roof  grew  louder, 
continuous.  A  poignant  and  then  strangling  emo- 
tion clutched  at  Howat  Penny's  throat.  Silently 
they  turned  from  the  murky  interior. 

A  grey  rain  was  plastering  the  leaves  on  the  soggy 
ground;  puddles  accumulated  in  the  scarred  road; 
the  smoke  from  the  smithy  hung  low  on  the  roof.  At 
the  left  a  small,  stone  house  had  a  half  opened  door. 
Ludowika  looked  within.  "  For  storing,"  Howat 
told  her.  Inside  were  piled  sledges  and  cinder  hooks, 
bars  and  moulds,  and  bales  of  tanned  hides.  Ludo- 
wika explored  in  the  shadows.  A  sudden  eddy  of 
102 


THE  FURNACE 


wind  slammed  to  the  door  through  which  they  had 
entered.  They  drew  together  irresistibly,  and  stood 
for  a  long  while,  crushed  in  each  other's  arms ; 
then  Ludowika  stepped  back  with  her  cloak  sliding 
from  her  shoulders.  She  rested  against  precarious 
steps  leading  aloft  through  a  square  opening  in 
the  ceiling.  "  For  storage,"  he  said  again.  He 
thought  his  throat  had  closed,  and  that  he  must  suf- 
focate. A  mechanical  impulse  to  show  her  what  was 
above  set  his  foot  upon  the  lower  step,  and  he  caught 
her  waist.  "  You  see,"  he  muttered ;  "  things  for  the 
store  .  .  .  the  men,  wool  stockings,  handkerchiefs 
.  .  .  against  their  pay."  The  drumming  rain  was 
scarcely  a  foot  above  their  heads;  an  acrid  and 
musty  odour  rose  from  the  boxes  and  canvas-sewed 
bales  about  the  walls.  "  Ludowika,"  Howat  said. 
He  stopped  —  she  had  shut  her  eyes.  All  that  was 
Howat  Penny,  that  was  individually  sentient,  left  him 
with  a  pounding  rush. 

A  faint  sound,  infinitely  far  removed,  but  insistent, 
penetrated  his  blurred  senses.  It  grew  louder ;  rain, 
rain  beating  on  the  roof.  Voices,  somewhere,  out- 
side. Ringing  blows  on  an  anvil,  a  blacksmith,  and 
horses  waiting.  Myrtle  Forge.  Ludowika.  Ludo- 
wika Winscombe.  No,  by  God,  never  that  last 
again ! 

He  stood  outside  with  his  head  bare  and  his  face 
lifted  to  the  cool  shock  of  the  rain.  Ludowika  was 
muffled  in  her  cloak.  Howat  could  see  a  renewed 
activity  in  the  cast  house;  a  group  of  men  were 

103 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


gathered  about  the  furnace  hearth,  in  which  he 
saw  Thomas  Gilkan.  He  moved  forward  to  call 
the  latter ;  but  a  tapping  was  in  progress,  and  he  was 
forced  to  wait.  Gilkan  swung  a  long  bar  against  a 
low,  clay  face,  and  instantly  the  murky  interior  was 
ablaze  with  a  crackling  radiance  against  which  the 
tense  figures  wavered  in  magnified  silhouettes.  The 
metal  poured  out  of  the  furnace  in  a  continuous, 
blinding  white  explosion  hung  with  fans  of  sparkling 
gold;  the  channels  of  the  pig  bed  rapidly  filled  with 
the  fluid  iron. 

Finally  Howat  Penny  lifted  Ludowika  to  her  sad- 
dle and  swung  himself  up  at  her  side.  The  rain  had 
stopped;  below  the  eastern  rim  of  cloud  an  expanse 
showed  serenely  clear.  Their  horses  soberly  took 
the  rise  beyond  Shadrach  Furnace  and  merged  into 
the  gathering  dusk  of  the  forest  road.  A  deep  tran- 
quillity had  succeeded  the  tempest  of  Howat's  emo- 
tions; it  would  not  continue,  he  knew;  already  the 
pressure  of  immense,  new  difficulties  gathered  about 
him;  but  momentarily  he  ignored  them.  He 
searched  his  feelings  curiously. 

The  fact  that  struck  him  most  sharply  was  that 
he  was  utterly  without  remorse  for  what  had  oc- 
curred ;  it  had  been  inevitable.  He  experienced  none 
of  the  fears  against  which  Ludowika  had  exclaimed. 
He  lingered  over  no  self-accusations,  the  reproach 
of  adultery.  He  was  absolutely  unable  then  to  think 
of  Felix  Winscombe  except  as  a  person  generally  un- 
concerned. If  he  repeated  silently  the  term  husband 
104 


• 
THE  FURNACE 


it  was  without  any  sense  of  actuality ;  the  satirical 
individual  in  the  full  bottomed  wig,  now  absent  in 
Maryland,  had  no  importance  in  the  passionate  situ- 
ation that  had  arisen  between  Ludowika  and  himself. 
Felix  Winscombe  would  of  course  have  to  be  met, 
dealt  with ;  but  so  would  a  great  many  other  exterior 
conditions. 

Ludowika,  in  her  linen  mask,  was  enigmatic,  a 
figure  of  mystery.  A  complete  silence  continued  be- 
tween them;  at  times  they  ambled  with  his  hand  on 
her  body ;  then  the  inequalities  of  the  road  forced 
them  apart.  The  clouds  dissolved,  the  sky  was  im- 
maculate, green,  with  dawning  stars  like  dim  white 
flowers.  A  faint  odour  of  the  already  mouldering 
year  rose  from  the  wet  earth.  Suddenly  Ludowika 
dragged  the  mask  from  her  face.  Quivering  with 
intense  feeling  she  cried : 

"  I'm  glad,  Howat !     Howat,  I'm  glad !  " 

He  contrived  to  put  an  arm  about  her,  crush  her 
to  him  for  a  precarious  moment.  "  We  have  had 
an  unforgettable  day  out  of  life,"  she  continued  rap- 
idly ;  "  that  is  something.  It  has  been  different, 
strangely  apart,  from  all  the  rest.  The  rain  and 
that  musty  little  store  house  and  the  wonderful  iron ; 
a  memory  to  hold,  carry  away  — " 

"  To  carry  where?  "  he  interrupted.  "  You  must 
realize  that  I'll  never  let  you  go  now.  I  will  keep 
you  if  we  have  to  go  beyond  the  Endless  Mountains. 
I  will  keep  you  in  the  face  of  any  man  or  opposition 
created." 

105 


A  wistfulness  settled  upon  her  out  of  which  grew 
a  slight  hope.  "  I  am  afraid  of  myself,  Howat," 
she  told  him ;  "  all  that  I  have  been,  my  life  — 
against  me.  But,  perhaps,  here,  with  you,  it  might 
be  different.  Perhaps  I  would  be  constant.  Per- 
haps all  the  while  I  have  needed  this.  Howat,  do 
you  think  so  ?  Do  you  think  I  could  forget  so  much, 
drop  the  past  from  me,  be  all  new  and  happy?  " 

He  reassured  her,  only  half  intent  upon  the  bur- 
den of  her  words.  He  utterly  disregarded  anything 
provisional  in  their  position;  happiness  or  unhap- 
piness  were  unconsidered  in  the  overwhelming  de- 
termination that  she  should  never  leave  him.  No 
remote  question  of  that  entered  his  brain.  The  dif- 
ficulties were  many,  but  he  dismissed  them  with  an 
impatient  gesture  of  his  unoccupied  hand.  Gilbert 
Penny  would  be  heavily  censorious;  he  had,  Howat 
recognized,  the  moral  prejudices  of  a  solid,  un- 
imaginative blood.  But,  lately,  his  father  had  sunk 
to  a  place  comparatively  insignificant  in  his  thoughts. 
This  was  partly  due  to  the  complete  manner  in 
which  Isabel  Penny  had  silenced  the  elder  at  break- 
fast. His  mother,  Howat  gladly  felt,  would  give 
him  the  sympathy  of  a  wise,  broad  understanding. 
David  and  Caroline  would  interpose  no  serious  ob- 
jection. Felix  Winscombe  remained;  a  virile  figure 
in  spite  of  his  years ;  a  man  of  assured  position  and 
a  bitter  will. 

He  determined  to  speak  on  the  day  that  Felix 
Winscombe  returned  from  Annapolis ;  there  would  be 
106 


THE  FURNACE 


no  concealment  of  what  had  occurred,  and  no  hy- 
pocrisy. A  decent  regret  at  Winscombe's  supreme 
loss.  The  other  would  not  relinquish  Ludowika 
without  a  struggle.  Who  would?  It  was  conceiv- 
able that  he  would  summon  the  assistance  of  the 
law,  conceivable  but  not  probable;  the  situation  had 
its  centre  in  a  purely  personal  pride.  Nothing  es- 
sential could  be  won  legally.  A  physical  encounter 
was  far  more  likely.  Howat  thought  of  that  coldly. 
He  had  no  chivalrous  instinct  to  offer  himself  as  a 
sop  to  conventional  honour.  In  any  struggle,  ex- 
change of  shots,  he  intended  to  be  victorious  .  .  . 
He  would  have  the  naming  of  the  conditions. 

"  It's  beautiful  here,"  Ludowika  broke  into  his 
speculations ;  "  the  great  forests  and  Myrtle  Forge. 
I  can  almost  picture  myself  directing  servants  like 
your  mother,  getting  supplies  out  of  the  store,  and 
watching  the  charcoal  and  iron  brought  down  to  the 
Forge.  The  sound  of  the  hammer  has  become  a 
part  of  my  dreams.  And  you,  Howat  —  I  have 
never  before  had  a  feeling  like  this  for  a  man. 
There's  a  little  fear  in  it  even.  It  must  be  stronger 
than  the  other,  than  Europe;  I  want  it  to  be." 
They  could  see  below  them  the  lighted  windows  at 
Myrtle  Forge.  The  horses  turned  unguided  into  the 
curving  way  across  the  lawn.  A  figure  stood  obse- 
quiously at  the  door;  it  was,  Howat  saw  with  deep 
automatic  revulsion,  the  Italian  servant.  He  won- 
dered again  impatiently  at  the  persistently  unpleas- 
ant impression  the  other  made  on  him.  Gilbert 

107 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


Penny  was  waiting  in  the  hall,  and  Howat  told  him 
fully  the  result  of  his  investigation. 

His  father  nodded,  satisfied.  "  You  are  taking 
hold  a  great  bit  better,"  he  was  obviously  pleased. 
"  We  must  go  over  the  whole  iron  situation  with  the 
Forsythes.  It's  time  you  and  David  stepped  for- 
ward. I  am  getting  bothered  by  new  complications ; 
the  thing  is  spreading  out  so  rapidly  —  steel  and  a 
thousand  new  methods  and  refinements.  And  the 
English  opposition;  I'm  afraid  you'll  come  into 
that." 

Ludowika  did  not  again  appear  that  evening,  and 
Howat  sat  informally  before  a  blazing  hearth  with 
his  mother,  Gilbert  Penny  and  Caroline.  Myrtle 
had  retired  with  a  headache.  Howat  felt  pleasantly 
settled,  almost  middle-aged ;  he  smoked  a  pipe  with 
the  deliberate  gestures  of  his  father.  He  wondered 
at  the  loss  of  his  old  restlessness,  his  revolt  from  just 
such  placid  scenes  as  the  present.  Never,  he  had 
thought,  would  he  be  caught,  bound,  with  invidious 
affections,  desires.  Howat,  a  black  Penny!  He 
had  been  subjugated  by  a  force  stronger  than  his 
rebellious  spirit.  Suddenly,  recalling  Ludowika's 
doubt,  he  wondered  if  he  would  be  a  subject  to  it  al- 
ways. All  the  elements  of  his  captivity  lay  so  en- 
tirely outside  of  him,  beyond  his  power  to  measure 
or  comprehend,  that  a  feeling  of  helplessness  came 
over  him.  He  again  had  the  sense  of  being  swept 
twisting  in  an  irresistible  flood.  But  his  confusion 
was  dominated  by  one  great  assurance  —  nothing 
108 


THE  FURNACE 


should  deprive  him  of  Ludowika.  An  intoxicating 
memory  invaded  him,  touched  every  nerve  with  de- 
light and  a  tyrannical  hunger.  His  fibre  seemed  to 
crumble,  his  knees  turn  to  dust.  Years  ago  he  had 
been  poisoned  by  berries,  and  limpness  almost  like 
this  had  gone  softly,  treacherously,  through  him. 


109 


VIII 

THEY  entered  into  a  period  of  secret  con- 
tentment and  understanding.  Ludowika 
displayed  a  grave  interest  in  the  details 
of  the  house  and  iron  at  Myrtle  Forge ;  he  explained 
the  processes  that  resulted  in  the  wrought  blooms 
despatched  by  tons  in  the  lumbering,  mule-drawn 
wagons.  They  explored  the  farm,  where  she  lis- 
tened approvingly  to  the  changes  he  proposed  mak- 
ing, kitchen  gardens  to  be  planted,  the  hedges  of 
roses  and  gravelled  paths  to  be  laid  —  for  her.  She 
suggested  an  Italian  walk,  latticed  above,  with  a 
stone  seat,  and  was  indicating  a  corner  that  might 
be  transformed  into  a  semblance  of  an  angle  of 
Versailles,  when,  suddenly,  she  stopped,  and  clasped 
his  wrist. 

"  No !  No ! "  she  exclaimed,  with  surprising 
energy.  "  We'll  have  no  France,  no  court,  here, 
but  only  America;  only  you  and  myself,  with  no 
past,  no  memories,  but  just  the  future."  How  that 
was  to  be  realized  neither  of  them  considered;  they 
avoided  all  practical  issues,  difficulties.  They  never 
mentioned  Felix  Winscombe's  name.  However,  a 
long  communication  came  from  him  for  his  wife. 
She  read  it  thoughtfully,  in  the  drawing  room,  await- 
110 


THE  FURNACE 


ing  dinner.  No  one  else  but  Howat  was  present,  and 
he  was  standing  with  his  hand  on  her  shoulder. 
"  Felix  hasn't  been  well,"  she  remarked  presently. 
"  For  the  first  time  he  has  spoken  to  me  of  his  age. 
The  Maryland  affair  drags,  and  that  has  wearied 
him." 

"  What  does  he  say  about  returning?  "  Howat 
bluntly  asked. 

"  Shortly,  he  hopes ;  that  is,  in  another  ten  days. 
He  says  there  is  a  good  ship,  the  Lindamira,  by  the 
middle  of  November."  Howat  said,  "  Excellent." 
Ludowika  gazed  at  him  swiftly.  "  It  will  be  diffi- 
cult." His  face  became  grim,  but  he  made  no  direct 
reply.  A  silence  fell  on  the  room  through  which 
vibrated  the  blows  of  the  trip  hammer  at  the  Forge. 
The  day  was  grey  and  definitely  cold ;  a  small  cannon 
stove  glowed  in  the  counting  house;  but  Ludowika 
kept  mostly  to  her  room.  She  sent  him  a  note  by  the 
Italian,  and  Howat  eyed  the  fellow  bowing  in  the 
doorway.  A  flexibility  that  seemed  entirely  without 
bones.  His  eyes  were  jet  slits,  his  lips  shaven  and 
mobile ;  a  wig  was  repulsively  saturated  with  scented 
grease.  Yet  it  was  not  in  actual  details  that 
he  oppressed  Howat ;  but  by  the  vague  suggestion  of 
debasing  commendations,  of  surreptitious  under- 
standing, insinuations.  He  seemed,  absurdly,  un- 
real, a  symbol  the  intent  of  which  Howat  missed ;  he 
suppressed  an  insane  movement  to  touch  the  Italian, 
discover  if  he  was  actually  before  him. 

He  reread  Ludowika's  note  whenever  he  was  not 

111 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


actually  employed  in  recording,  until  he  was  obliged 
to  conceal  it  in  the  Forge  book. 

Later  Abner  Forsythe  arrived  with  David,  and 
there  was  a  stir  of  preparing  rooms  and  communica- 
tion with  the  farm.  David's  mother  was  dead,  and 
Abner  conducted  the  wedding  negotiations  with  the 
Pennys.  "  I  thought  it  would  be  the  pretty  little 
one,"  he  said  at  the  table,  with  a  Quaker  disregard  of 
small  niceties  of  feeling ;  "  but,  Gilbert,  any  girl  of 
yours  would  be  more  than  the  young  men  of  the  pres- 
ent deserve."  It  was  a  difficult  conversation  for  every 
one  but  Ludowika  and  Abner  Forsythe.  A  greater 
ease  appeared  after  supper.  David  and  Caroline 
disappeared  in  the  direction  of  the  clavichord,  from 
which  sounded  some  scattered,  perfunctory  measures. 
The  two  elder  men  returned,  over  a  decanter  of 
French  spirits,  to  the  inevitable  and  engrossing  sub- 
ject of  iron  and  the  Crown  regulations ;  Myrtle  sat 
stiffly  before  the  fireplace  with  Isabel  Penny;  and 
Howat  moved  up  and  across  the  room,  his  gaze  lying 
on  Ludowika,  spread  in  an  expanse  of  orange  chiffon 
and  bold  silver  tracery  on  the  small  sofa. 

She  smiled  at  him  once,  but,  for  the  most  part,  she 
was  lost  in  revery.  Ludowika  had  a  fan,  to  hold 
against  the  fire ;  and  her  white  fingers  were  playing 
with  its  polished  black  sticks  and  glazed  paper 
printed  with  an  ornamental  bar  of  music.  A  faint 
colour  stained  her  cheeks  as  he  watched  her,  and  set 
his  heart  tumultuously  beating.  He  told  himself 
over  and  over,  with  an  unabated  sense  of  wonder, 
112 


THE  FURNACE 


that  she  was  his.  He  longed  for  the  moment  when 
they  could  discard  all  pretence  and  be  frankly,  com- 
pletely, together.  That  must  happen  after  Felix 
Winscombe  arrived.  Meanwhile  he  was  forced  to 
content  himself  with  a  look,  a  quick  or  lingering  con- 
tact of  fingers,  the  crush  of  her  body  against  his 
momentarily  in  a  passage.  They  had  returned  once 
to  the  rock  where  he  had  first  been  intoxicated  by 
her;  in  a  strangling  wave  of  emotion  he  had  taken 
her  into  his  arms ;  but  she  had  broken  away.  The 
width  of  the  stream  and  screen  of  trees  had  appar- 
ently disconcerted  Ludowika,  and  she  contrived  to 
make  him  feel  inexcusably  young,  awkward. 

But  usually  he  dominated  her;  there  was  a  depth 
to  his  passion  that  achieved  patience,  the  calmness  of 
unassailable  fortitude.  She  gazed  at  him  often  with 
a  surprise  that  bordered  on  fear;  again  she  would 
delight  in  his  mastery,  beg  him  to  hold  her  forever 
safe  against  the  past.  He  reassured  her  of  his  abil- 
ity and  determination  to  accomplish  that;  there  was 
not  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  in  his  own  mind.  He 
was  more  troubled  now  than  formerly;  but  he  was 
eager  for  the  climax  to  pass,  impatient  to  claim  his 
own. 

As  if  a  dam  had  been  again  thrown  across  the 
flood  of  his  emotions  he  felt  them  mounting,  grow- 
ing more  and  more  irrepressible.  He  slept  in  fever- 
ish snatches,  with  gaps  in  which  he  stared  wide-eyed 
into  the  dark,  trying  to  realize  his  coming  joy, 
visualizing  Ludowika,  a  brilliant  apparition  of  flow- 
US 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


ing  silk,  on  the  night.  He  thought  of  the  store 
house  at  the  Furnace,  of  the  rain  beating  on  the 
roof,  and  Ludowika  .  .  .  God,  if  that  old  man  would 
only  return,  go,  leave  them!  The  clouds  vanished 
and  left  the  nights  emerald  clear,  the  constellations 
glittered  in  frosty  immensities  of  silence.  He  stood 
at  the  open  window  with  his  shoulders  bare,  revelling 
in  the  cold  air  that  flowed  over  him,  defying  winter, 
death  itself.  The  moon  waned  immutably. 

David  was  now  at  Shadrach  Furnace,  living  with 
the  Heydricks,  and  the  necessities  that  brought  him 
to  Myrtle  Forge  were  endless.  He  was  absolutely 
happy,  and  Howat  watched  him  with  mingled  long- 
ing and  envy.  His  affair,  darker,  more  tragic  in 
spite  of  a  consummation  that  must  be  joyous,  seemed 
infinitely  more  mature.  Caroline  was  a  nice  enough 
girl,  but  Ludowika  was  supremely  fascinating. 
David  amused  him: 

"  Caroline  is  a  miracle.  Of  course  there  are  pret- 
tier, and  Mrs.  Winscombe  has  more  air ;  but  none  has 
Caroline's  charming  manner.  Of  course,  you  have 
noticed  it.  Even  a  thick-headed  brother  couldn't 
miss  that.  We  have  plans  for  you,  too.  And  it's 
no  good  your  looking  glum ;  we'll  glum  you." 

The  amusement  faded  from  Howat's  countenance, 
and  he  listened  sullenly  to  the  end  of  the  raillery. 
His  temper  was  growing  daily  more  uneven,  the  de- 
light had  largely  left  his  reflections.  His  passion 
had  become  too  insistent  for  happy  conjecturing; 
the  visions  of  Ludowika  now  only  tormented  him. 


THE  FURNACE 


Her  eyes  were  like  burning  sapphires,  her  warm 
palms  caressed  his  face;  he  was  increasingly  gaunt 
and  shadowed.  Once  he  gave  a  note  for  her  to  the 
Italian  servant,  loathing  the  hand  that  adroitly  cov- 
ered the  folded  sheet,  the  other's  oblique  smile;  but 
she  sent  back  wdrd  that  she  was  suffering  from  a 
headache.  He  began  to  plan  so  that  he  would  inter- 
cept her  in  unexpected  places.  She,  too,  was  pas- 
sionate in  her  admissions ;  but,  somehow,  some  one 
always  stumbled  toward  them,  or  they  were  sum- 
moned from  beyond.  He  began  to  feel  that  this  was 
not  mere  chance,  but  desired,  deliberately  courted, 
by  Ludowika.  Very  well,  he  would  end  it  all,  as  it 
were,  with  a  shout  when  Felix  Winscombe  came  back. 

When  Felix  Winscombe  came  back! 

He  was,  too,  increasingly  aware  of  his  mother's 
scrutiny.  Howat  was  certain  that  Isabel  Penny  had 
surmised  a  part  of  his  feeling  for  Ludowika.  He 
didn't  greatly  care ;  any  one  might  know,  he  thought 
contemptuously.  It  had  destroyed  his  sympathetic 
feeling  for  his  mother,  the  only  considerate  bond 
that  had  existed  with  his  family.  Unconsciously  he 
placed  her  on  one  side  of  a  line,  the  other  held  only 
Ludowika  and  himself. 

He  explained  this  to  her  in  a  sere  reach  of  the 
garden.  It  was  afternoon,  the  sun  low  and  a  haze 
on  the  hills.  Ludowika  had  on  a  scarlet  wrap, 
curiously  vivid  against  the  withered,  brown  aspect 
of  the  faded  flower  stems.  "  You  and  me,"  he  re- 
peated. She  gazed,  without  answering,  at  the  bar- 

115 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


rier  of  hills  that  closed  in  Myrtle  Forge.  From  the 
thickets  came  the  clear  whistling  of  partridges,  in- 
tensifying the  unbroken  tranquillity  that  surrounded 
the  habitations.  Howat  was  suddenly  conscious  of 
the  pressure  of  vast,  unguessed  regions,  primitive 
forces,  illimitable  wildernesses.  It  brought  upper- 
most in  him  a  corresponding  zest  in  the  sheer  spa- 
ciousness of  the  land,  a  feeling  always  intensified  by 
the  thought  of  England.  "  The  Province,"  he  said 
disjointedly,  "  a  place  for  men.  Did  you  see  those 
that  followed  the  road  this  morning?  Perhaps  five 
with  their  women,  some  pack  horses,  kitchen  tins  and 
hide  tents.  The  men  wore  buckskin,  and  furred  caps, 
and  the  women's  skirts  were  sewed  leather.  One  was 
tramping  along  with  a  feeding  baby.  Well,  God 
knows  where  they  have  been,  how  many  days  they 
have  walked;  their  shoes  were  in  shreds.  And  their 
faces,  thin  and  serious,  have  looked  steadily  over 
rifles  at  death.  The  women,  too.  You'll  only  get 
them  here,  in  a  big  country,  a  new  — " 

"  They  were  terrible,"  Ludowika  declared ;  "  sav- 
age. I  was  glad  when  they  were  by.  The  baby  at 
the  woman's  great  breast ! "  she  shuddered  at  the 
memory.  "  Like  animals." 

He  gazed  at  her  with  a  slight  surprise;  he  had 
never  heard  her  speak  so  bitterly.  He  saw  her  more 
clearly  than  ever  before ;  as  if  her  words  had  illumi- 
nated her  extraordinary  delicacy  of  being,  had  made 
visible  all  the  infinite  refinements  of  which  she  was 
the  result.  He  had  a  recurrence  of  his  sense  of  her 
116 


THE  FURNACE 


incongruity  here,  balanced  on  polished  black  pat- 
tens, against  the  darkening  hills.  The  sun  disap- 
peared, there  was  a  cool  flare  of  yellow  light,  and  a 
feeling  of  impending  evening.  The  hills  were  indigo, 
the  forest  a  dimmer  gold,  a  wind  moved  audible  in 
the  dry  leaves. 

Ludowika  gasped.  "  It's  so  —  so  huge,"  she  said, 
"  all  the  lonely  miles.  At  times  I  can't  bear  to  think 
of  it."  A  faint  dread  invaded  him.  "  Last  night, 
when  I  couldn't  sleep,  a  thing  howled  in  the  woods. 
And  I  got  thinking  of  those  naked  men  at  the  Forge, 
with  their  eyes  rimmed  in  black,  and  —  and  — " 

He  disregarded  the  publicity  of  their  position  and 
put  an  arm  about  her  shoulders,  in  an  overwhelming 
impulse  to  calm  and  reassure  her;  but  she  slipped 
away.  "  I'll  be  all  right  again,"  she  promised ;  "  but 
I  think  it's  more  cheerful  with  the  candles.  We'll 
get  your  sister  to  play  Belshazzar  and  pretend  we're 
across  the  green  from  St.  James." 

A  mood  darker  than  any  he  had  lately  known  set- 
tled over  him.  It  was  natural  for  Ludowika  to  be 
lonely,  at  first ;  but  in  a  little  she  would  grow  to  love 
the  wild  like  himself.  She  must.  The  Province  was 
to  be  her  life.  He  was  standing  before  the  fire  in 
the  informal  chamber  beyond  the  dining  room,  watch- 
ing his  mother's  vigorous  hands  deftly  engaged  in 
embroidery.  There  was  no  one  present,  and  a  sud- 
den, totally  desperate  recklessness  possessed  him. 
Isabel  Penny  said: 

"  Mr.  Winscombe  will  be  here  shortly." 

117 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


"  I  wish  it  would  be  to-night,"  he  declared.  She 
raised  her  calm  gaze  with  brows  arched  in  inquiry. 
"  There  is  something  — "  he  broke  off.  "  She  be- 
longs to  me,"  he  said  in  a  low,  harsh  voice,  "  and  not 
to  that  old  man." 

Mrs.  Penny  secured  her  needle,  and  put  the  colour- 
ful web  aside.  She  was,  as  he  had  been  sure  she 
would  be,  entirely  composed,  admirable.  Her  ques- 
tioning look  grew  keener.  "  I  was  afraid  of  that," 
she  admitted  simply ;  "  after  the  first.  It  is  very 
unpleasant  and  difficult.  This  is  not  London,  and 
your  father  will  make  no  allowances.  You  are  not 
any  easier  to  bend,  Howat.  With  Mrs.  Wins- 
combe  — "  she  paused,  "  I  am  not  certain.  But  there 
is  no  doubt  about  the  husband." 

"  She  belongs  to  me,"  he  reiterated  sullenly. 

"  There  is  no  need  for  you  to  make  yourself  of- 
fensively clear.  I  know  something  of  details  of  that 
kind.  I  told  you  once  that  they  might  mean  only  a 
very  little  to  —  to  certain  women.  I  am  not  pre- 
pared to  judge  about  that.  But  I  know  you,  what 
bitter  feeling  you  are  capable  of.  You  are  a  very 
pure  man,  Howat;  and  for  that  reason  such  an 
occurrence  would  tear  you  up  and  across.  There 
is  no  use  in  begging  you  to  be  cautious,  diplomatic. 
Mr.  Winscombe,  too,  is  very  determined;  he  has 
many  advantages  —  maturity,  coldness,  experience. 
He  won't  spare  you,  either.  It's  excessively  un- 
fortunate." 
118 


THE  FURNACE 


"  I'll  get  it  over  as  quickly  as  possible.  I  didn't 
want  the  thing  to  happen,  it  wasn't  from  any  choice ; 
it  hit  me  like  a  bullet.  Nothing  else  is  of  the  slight- 
est importance.  I've  gone  over  this  again  and 
again ;  I'll  tell  him  and  let  him  try  what  he  can. 
Ludowika's  gone  from  —  from  the  fireworks  and 
fiddles  and  stinking  courts;  I've  got  her,  and,  by 
God,  I'll  keep  her!" 

"  Talk  quietly ;  you  can't  shout  yourself  into  this. 
Are  you  certain  that  Mrs.  Winscombe  really  finds 
the  courts  —  stinking?  I  remember,  at  first,"  she 
stopped.  Even  in  the  midst  of  his  passion  he  lis- 
tened for  what  revelation  she  might  make;  but  none 
followed.  She  was  silent  for  a  minute.  "  They  be- 
come a  habit,"  she  said  finally ;  "  love,  loves,  become 
a  habit.  Only  men  brought  up  in  the  same  atmos- 
phere can  understand.  At  first  Felix  Winscombe 
will  be  infuriated  with  you  for  speaking,  then  he  will 
realize  more,  and  the  trouble  will  follow.  Are  you 
certain  that  you  have  comprehended?  It  would  be 
stupid  to  mistake  an  episode,  you  would  succeed 
only  in  making  yourself  ridiculous." 

He  lifted  up  both  his  hands  and  closed  them  with 
a  quivering,  relentless  force. 

"  Truly,"  Isabel  Penny  remarked,  "  truly  I  be- 
gin to  be  sorry  for  her.  There  is  something  she  has 
yet  to  learn  about  men.  Nothing  can  be  said;  and 
that  is  what  your  father  will  not  penetrate.  Howat, 
I  am  even  a  little  afraid  .  .  .  now.  That,  I  believe, 

119 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


is  unusual  for  me.  It's  your  blackness,  like  powder. 
The  explosion  can  kill.  Nothing  may  be  said.  Life 
drags  us  along  by  the  hair." 

Her  questions  about  Ludowika  joined  to  the  mem- 
ory of  the  latter's  revulsion  from  the  primitive  condi- 
tions of  the  Province  and  added  to  the  heaviness  of 
his  heart.  He  mentally  denied  his  mother's  sug- 
gestions, drove  them  from  him,  but  they  left  a  faint 
enduring  sting,  a  vague  unrest.  His  passion  for 
Ludowika  swelled,  dominated,  him;  he  forgot  every- 
thing but  his  own,  supreme  desire.  Nothing  else 
stood  before  its  flood;  all  thought  of  Ludowika's 
final  happiness  was  lost  with  the  other  detritus. 
The  tense  closing  of  his  hands  had  symbolized  his 
feeling,  his  intent.  He  held  her  in  a  manner  as 
nakedly  primitive  as  the  inchoate  sexuality  of  the 
emotion  that  had  engulfed  him. 

Ludowika  did  not  appear  for  supper,  and  he  was 
possessed  by  a  misery  of  vague  apprehensions.  He 
must  know  something  of  her  thoughts,  have  a  token 
from  her  of  some  feeling  like  his  own ;  and,  waiting,  he 
stopped  the  Italian  on  the  stairs.  The  latter  knew 
his  purpose  immediately,  without  a  spoken  word ; 
and  he  followed  Howat's  brusque  gesture  to  his 
room.  He  hastily  wrote  a  note;  and  the  latter 
brought  him  back  a  reply,  only  partly  satisfactory, 
with  an  air  of  relish.  For  the  first  time  the  affair 
had  the  hateful  appearance  of  an  intrigue,  like  a 
court  adventure.  It  was  the  Italian  servant,  Howat 
decided;  and  immediately  he  recognized  why  he  dis- 
120 


THE  FURNACE 


liked  the  other  —  it  was  because  he  expressed  an 
aspect  of  slyness  that  lay  over  Ludowika  and  himself. 
He  put  that  from  him,  too ;  but  it  was  like  brushing 
away  cobwebs.  His  hunger  for  Ludowika  increased 
all  the  while;  it  became  more  burningly  material,  in- 
satiable akd  concrete. 

On  the  day  following  she  clung  to  him,  when  op- 
portunity offered,  with  a  desperate  energy  of  emo- 
tion. "  You  must  hold  me  tighter,"  she  told  him. 
Her  mood  rapidly  changed,  and  she  complained  of 
the  eternal,  pervasive  fall  of  the  forge  hammer. 
"  It  will  drive  me  mad,"  she  declared  almost  wildly. 
"  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  its  going  on  and  on,  year 
after  year;  listening  to  it — "  He  heard  her  with 
sombre  eyes.  She  had  come  to  the  counting  house, 
empty  for  the  moment  but  for  themselves,  and  stood 
with  her  countenance  shadowed  by  a  frown.  "  If 
the  hammer  stops,"  he  replied,  waving  his  hand 
largely,  "  all  this,  the  Pennys,  stop,  too.  I'm  afraid 
that  sound  of  beating  out  iron  will  be  always 
wrought  through  our  lives.  You  will  get  accustomed 
to  it  — " 

Her  expression  grew  petulant,  resentful.  "  Do 
you  mean  that  we  couldn't,  perhaps,  go  to  England, 
if  —  if  I  wanted?  "  He  moved  closer  to  her,  brush- 
ing the  circumference  of  her  skirt.  "  You  asked  me 
to  hold  you,  to  keep  you  from  the  past;  and  I  am 
going  to  do  it.  London  is  all  that  you  wish  to  for- 
get ;  it  must  go  completely  out  of  your  life  .  .  .  never 
finger  you  again."  A  faint  dread  that  deepened  al- 

121 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


most  to  antagonism  was  visible  on  her  countenance. 
"  I  suppose  to  men  talk  like  that  seems  a  sign  of 
strength,  of  possession ;  but  it  doesn't  impress  women, 
really.  You  see,  women  give,  or  else  —  there  is 
nothing." 

"  I  had  no  thought  of  impressing  you,"  he  said 
simply ;  "  I  only  repeated  what  came  into  my  mind, 
what  I  mean.  It  would  be  a  mistake  for  me  to  take 
you  to  England,  and  make  both  of  us  miserable.  Be- 
side, there  is  more  to  tend  here  than  I'll  ever  accom- 
plish." She  objected,  "  But  other  people,  work- 
men, will  do  the  actual  labour.  Surely  you  are  not 
going  to  keep  on  with  anything  so  vulgar — "  she 
indicated  the  office  and  desks.  Her  features  sharp- 
ened with  contempt.  "  I'll  not  be  a  clerk,"  he  told 
her  gravely.  "  But  I  am  responsible  for  a  great 
deal.  You  should  understand  that  for  you  showed 
it  to  me.  Most  of  what  I  am  now  has  been  you." 
He  reached  out  his  hands  to  her  in  a  wave  of  tender- 
ness, but  she  evaded  him.  She  stood  irresolute  for 
a  moment  and  then  abruptly  turned  and  disappeared. 

A  white  rim  of  new  moon  grew  visible  at  the  edge 
of  dusk,  and  he  stood  gazing  at  it  before  he  entered 
the  dwelling.  A  dull  unrest  had  become  part  of 
his  inner  tumult,  a  premonition  falling  over  him  like 
an  advancing  shadow.  But  above  all  his  vague 
fears  rose  the  knowledge  that  he  would  never  let 
Ludowika  go  from  him;  that  was  the  root  of  his 
being.  Now  she  could  never  leave  him.  It  was 
natural,  he  assured  himself  again,  that  she  should 
122 


THE  FURNACE 


feel  doubts  at  first ;  everything  here  was  so  different 
from  the  life  she  had  known;  and  women  were  vari- 
able. He  would  have  to  understand  that,  learn  to 
accommodate  himself  to  changing,  surface  moods, 
immovable  underneath. 

She  had  put  on  for  supper,  he  saw,  a  daring  dress ; 
and  her  expression  was  that  which  he  had  first  noted, 
indifferent,  slightly  scoffing.  Her  shoulders  and 
arms  gleamed  under  fragile  gauze,  her  bodice  was 
hardly  more  than  a  caress  of  silk.  He  watched  her 
every  movement,  and  got  a  sort  of  satisfaction  from 
the  knowledge  that  she  grew  increasingly  disturbed 
at  his  unwavering  scrutiny.  His  mother's  attitude 
toward  Mrs.  Winscombe  had  not  changed  by  a  shade, 
an  inflection;  she  was  correctly  cordial  in  her 
slightly  distant  manner. 

In  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  evening  Howat  was  left 
with  Ludowika  for  a  little,  and  he  bent  over  her, 
kissing  her  sharply.  She  was  coldly  unresponsive; 
and  he  kissed  her  again,  trying  vainly  to  bring  some 
warmth  to  her  lips.  She  did  not  avoid  him  actually, 
but  he  felt  that  something  in  her,  essential,  slipped 
aside  from  his  caress.  His  emotion  changed  to  a 
mounting  anger.  "  You  will  have  to  get  over  this 
now  or  later,"  he  asserted.  She  said  surprisingly, 
"  Felix  will  be  home  this  week."  He  stood  with  an 
arm  half  raised,  his  head  turned,  as  he  had  been  ar- 
rested by  her  period. 

"Well?"  he  demanded  stupidly.  Her  tone  had 
been  beyond  his  comprehension.  "  Felix,"  she  went 

123 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


on,  apparently  at  random,  "  is  very  satisfactory." 
Something  of  her  intent  penetrated  his  stunned  fac- 
ulties. He  advanced  toward  her  dark  with  rage. 
"  And  if  he  is,"  he  replied,  "  it  will  do  him  no  good. 
It  will  do  you  no  good,  if  you  think  — "  he  broke  off 
from  an  accession  of  emotion.  "  What  damned 
thing  are  you  thinking  of  ?  " 

"  The  Princess  Amelia's  stockings,"  she  answered 
pertly. 

"  You'll  never  put  them  on  her  again,  like  any 
dirty  chamber  maid." 

"  Felix,  the  end  of  this  week,"  she  repeated. 

"  I'll  kill  him,"  Howat  whispered ;  "  if  he  lifts  a 
hand  I'll  shoot  him  through  the  head.  This  was 
forced  on  me ;  some  one  else,  responsible,  can  pay." 
Her  chin  was  up,  her  expression  mocking.  "  Ridic- 
ulous, like  any  cloddish  countryman."  She  walked 
deliberately  away,  seated  herself  in  a  graceful  eddy 
of  panniered  silk. 

A  cold  torment  succeeded  his  rage ;  he  had  the  feel- 
ing of  being  hopelessly  trapped,  stifling  in  his  pas- 
sion. He  followed  her.  "  Ludowika,  this  is  horrible, 
so  soon.  I  am  willing  to  think  that  I  am  to  blame ; 
stupid ;  no  experience.  You  will  have  to  be  patient 
with  me.  Naturally  everything,  now  — "  he  broke 
off  and  wandered  to  a  window,  holding  aside  the 
draperies,  gazing  out  into  the  night.  The  sky  was 
so  luminous  that  the  barriers  of  surrounding  hills 
were  printed  clearly  against  starry  space.  The 
forest  swept  about  in  a  dark  veil;  nowhere  could  be 
124 


THE  FURNACE 


seen  a  glimpse  of  habitation.  He  heard  the  waver- 
ing cry  of  an  owl. 

The  Province,  immense,  secretive !  Paper  lanterns 
strung  in  parks,  hid  music,  provocative  smiles  only 
playing  with  the  heart!  It  was  tremendously  un- 
fortunate. Why  must  they  suffer  so  unreasonably? 
Something,  he  was  certain,  had  gone  wrong;  it  lay 
both  within  them  and  outside;  a  force  diverted,  a 
purpose  unaccomplished.  It  bent,  broke,  them  like 
two  twigs ;  they  were  no  more  than  two  bubbles, 
momentarily  reflecting  the  sky,  on  a  profound  depth. 
A  wind  stirred,  oppressed  them,  and  they  were  gone. 
A  great  pity  for  Ludowika  took  its  place  in  his 
feelings.  He  was  sorry  for  himself.  Suddenly  the 
rustle  of  her  skirts  approached. 

An  infinitely  seductive,  warm  arm  crept  about  his 
neck;  she  abandoned  herself  to  a  ruthless  embrace. 
"  It's  been  wonderful,  Howat ;  and  —  and  it  isn't 
over,  yet.  Nothing  lasts,  it's  a  mistake  to  demand 
too  much.  We  must  take  what  we  may.  Perhaps, 
even,  later  —  in  London.  No,  don't  interrupt  me. 
After  all,  I'm  wiser  than  you  are.  I  was  swept  away 
for  a  little.  Impossibilities.  I  am  what  I  am. 
I  was  always  that,  inside  of  me.  If  the  longing  I 
told  you  about  had  been  stronger,  it,  and  not  the 
court,  would  have  made  me ;  but  it  was  no  more  than 
a  glimpse  seen  from  a  window,  a  thing  far  away. 
I'd  never  reach  it.  This,  now,  has  been  the  best  of 
me,  all." 

He  had  a  mingled  sense  of  the  truth  and  futility  of 

125 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


her  words.  It  was  as  if  his  passion  stood  apart  from 
them,  dominating  them,  lashing  him  with  desire. 
Nothing  she  might  say,  no  necessity  nor  effort,  could 
free  them.  The  uselessness  of  words  smote  him. 
She  spoke  again,  an  urgent  flow  of  dulcet  sound 
against  his  ear;  but  it  was  without  meaning,  lost  in 
the  drumming  of  his  blood.  The  stir  of  feet  ap- 
proached, and  he  released  her,  moving  to  the  fire- 
place. It  was  Caroline.  She  stopped  awkwardly, 
advancing  a  needless  explanation  of  a  trivial  errand 
from  the  doorway,  and  vanished. 

His  position  at  Myrtle  Forge  was  fast  becoming 
impossible.  There  would  be  an  explosion  now  at  any 
moment.  He  took  the  fire  tongs  and  idly  rearranged 
the  wood  on  the  hearth.  The  flames  blazed  more 
brightly,  their  reflection  squirmed  over  the  lacquer 
frames  on  the  walls,  gleamed  richly  on  polished  black 
walnut,  and  fell  across  the  Turkey  floor  carpet.  It 
even  reached  through  the  pale  candle  light  and  flick- 
ered on  Ludowika's  dull  red  gown,  flowered  and 
clouded  with  blue.  She  was  turned  away  from  him, 
against  the  window;  her  shoulders  drooped  in  an  at- 
titude of  dejection.  The  flames  died  away  again. 


126 


IX 

LUDOWIKA'S  manner  toward  him  became 
self-possessed,  even  animated;  and,  Howat 
thought,  preoccupied.  She  was  expectant, 
with  a  slightly  impatient  air,  as  if  she  were  looking 
beyond  his  shoulder.  The  cause  occurred  to  him  in 
a  flash  that  ignited  his  anger  like  a  ready-charged 
explosive.  She  was  waiting,  desiring,  the  return  of 
her  husband.  Felix  Winscombe,  she  thought,  would 
mean  —  escape.  He  used  the  word  deliberately, 
realizing  that  that  now  expressed  her  attitude  to- 
ward the  Province,  toward  him.  It  made  no  differ- 
ence in  his  feeling  for  her,  his  determination  that 
nothing  should  take  her  from  him.  His  power  of 
detachment  vanished;  he  became  utterly  the  instru- 
ment of  his  passion. 

He  didn't  press  upon  her  small  expressions  of  his 
emotion ;  somehow,  without  struggle,  she  had  made 
them  seem  foolish ;  beyond  that  they  were  inade- 
quate. He  was  conscious  of  the  approach  of  a  great 
climax ;  his  feeling  was  above  the  satisfaction  of  triv- 
ial caresses.  Soon,  he  told  himself,  soon  he  would 
absolutely  possess  her,  for  as  long  as  they  lived. 
Ultimately  she  must  be  happy  with  him.  He 
thought  the  same  things  in  a  ceaseless  round;  he 

127 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


walked  almost  without  sight,  discharging  mechan- 
ically the  routine  of  daily  existence;  answering  in- 
evitable queries  in  a  perfunctory,  dull  voice.  Myr- 
tle Forge  made  a  distant  background  of  immaterial 
colours  and  sounds  for  the  slightly  mocking  figure 
of  Ludowika. 

In  mid-afternoon  David  arrived  with  a  face  stung 
scarlet  by  beating  wind,  and  a  clatter  of  hoofs.  He 
immediately  found  Gilbert  Penny,  and  the  two  men 
sat  together  with  grave  faces,  lowered  voices. 
Howat,  who  had  left  the  counting  house  at  the  sound 
of  the  hurried  approach,  caught  a  few  words  as  he 
drew  near  the  others : 

"...  a  bad  attack,  crumpled  him  up.  Coming 
out  from  the  city  now."  They  were  talking  about 
Felix  Winscombe,  who,  it  appeared,  had  been  as- 
saulted by  a  knife-like  pain ;  and  was  returning 
to  Myrtle  Forge.  "  Watlow  saw  no  reason  why  it 
should  be  dangerous,"  David  continued ;  "  he  thinks 
perhaps  it  came  from  unusual  exertions,  entertain- 
ing. A  little  rest,  he  says.  He  thinks  the  Wins- 
combes  will  be  able  to  sail  on  the  Lindamira  as  they 
planned." 

Ludowika  listened  seriously  to  Gilbert  Penny's 
few,  temperate  words  of  preparation.  "  He  has  had 
a  pain  like  that  before,"  she  told  them.  "  It  always 
passes  away.  Felix  is  really  very  strong,  in  spite 
of  his  age.  He  won't  ordinarily  go  to  bed,  but  I'll 
insist  on  that  now,  simply  for  rest."  Felix  Wins- 
combe  appeared  at  the  supper  hour.  He  was  helped 
128 


THE  FURNACE 


out  of  Abner  Forsythe's  leather-hung  chaise,  and 
assisted  into  the  house.  Howat  saw  him  under  the 
hanging  lamp  in  the  hall ;  with  a  painful  surprise  he 
realized  that  he  was  gazing  at  the  haggard  face  of 
an  old  man.  Before  he  had  never  connected  the 
thought  of  definite  age  with  Mr.  Winscombe.  The 
man's  satirical  virility  had  forbidden  any  of  the 
patronage  unconsciously  extended  to  the  aged. 

A  trace  of  his  familiar,  mocking  smile  remained, 
but  it  was  tremulous ;  it  required,  Howat  saw,  great 
effort.  An  involuntary  admiration  possessed  him 
for  the  other's  unquenchable  courage.  The  latter 
protested  vehemently  against  being  led  to  his  room 
by  Ludowika ;  but  she  ignored  his  determination  to 
go  into  supper,  swept  him  away  with  a  firm  arm 
about  his  waist. 

The  house  took  on  the  slightly  strange  and  dis- 
ordered aspect  of  illness ;  voices  were  grave,  low ;  in 
the  morning  Howat  learned  that  Felix  Winscombe 
had  had  another  vicious  attack  in  the  night.  Dr. 
Watlow  arrived,  and  demanded  assistance.  Howat 
Penny,  in  the  room  where  Ludowika's  husband  lay 
exhausted  in  a  bed  canopied  and  draped  in  gay 
India  silk,  followed  Watlow's  actions  with  a  healthy 
feeling  of  revulsion.  The  doctor  bared  Wins- 
combe's  spare  chest,  then  filled  a  shallow,  thick  glass 
with  spirits ;  emptying  the  latter,  he  set  fire  to  the 
interior  of  the  glass;  and,  when  the  blue  flame  had 
expired,  clapped  the  cupped  interior  over  the  pros- 
trate man's  heart.  There  was,  it  seemed,  little  else 

129 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


that  could  be  done;  bleeding  was  judged  for  the  once 
unexpeditious. 

An  effort  at  commonplace  conversation  was  main- 
tained at  dinner.  Ludowika  openly  discussed  the 
arrangements  for  their  return  to  London.  Felix 
Winscombe  had  rallied  from  the  night ;  his  wife  said 
that  it  was  difficult  to  restrain  him.  The  most  com- 
fortable provisions,  she  continued,  had  been  made 
for  their  passage  on  the  Lindamira.  Howat  heard 
her  without  resentment.  He  had  no  wish  to  contra- 
dict her  needlessly  even  in  thought;  he  was  immov- 
ably fixed.  Mr.  Winscombe's  debilitated  return  had 
completely  upset  his  intentions.  An  entirely  differ- 
ent proceeding  would  now  be  demanded,  but  with  an 
identical  end.  What  pity  he  felt  for  the  elder  had 
no  power  to  reach  or  alter  his  passion. 

He  returned  to  the  counting  house,  and  worked 
methodically  through  the  afternoon,  with  an  increas- 
ing sense  of  being  involved  in  an  irresistible  move- 
ment. This  gave  him  a  feeling  almost  of  tranquil- 
lity ;  from  the  beginning  he  had  not  been  responsible. 
In  the  face  of  illness  the  Italian  servant  proved 
utterly  undependable ;  he  cringed,  stricken  with 
dread,  from  the  spectacle  of  suffering.  And  when 
late  in  the  day  Mr.  Winscombe,  partially  drugged 
with  opium,  grew  consciously  weaker,  Howat's  as- 
sistance was  required. 

Ludowika  now  remained  in  the  room  with  her  hus- 
band, and  there  was  a  discreet  movement  in  and 
out  by  various  members  of  the  household.  Isabel 
130 


THE  FURNACE 


Penny  remained  for  an  hour,  Caroline  took  her 
place,  Myrtle  fluttered  uncertainly  in  the  door- 
way. Through  the  evening  Felix  Winscombe  lay 
propped  on  pillows,  his  head  covered  by  a  black  gros 
de  Naples  cap.  His  keen  personality  waned  and 
revived  on  his  long,  yellow  countenance.  At  one 
side  wigs  stood  in  a  row  on  blocks,  a  brilliant,  ma- 
genta coat  lay  in  a  huddle  on  a  chair.  At  intervals 
he  spoke,  in  a  thinner,  higher  voice  than  customary, 
petulantly  uneasy,  or  with  a  familiar,  sardonic  in- 
flection. At  the  latter  Ludowika  would  grow  im- 
mensely cheered.  She  entirely  ignored  Howat  on 
the  occasions  when  he  was  in  the  room.  He  saw  her 
mostly  bent  over  leather  boxes,  into  which  disap- 
peared her  rich  store  of  silk  and  gold  brocades,  shoes 
of  purple  morocco,  soft  white  shifts.  Howat 
watched  her  without  an  emotion  visible  on  his  som- 
bre countenance. 

Occasionally  Mr.  Winscombe's  tenuous  fingers 
dipped  into  a  snuff  box  of  black  enamel  and  bril- 
liants, and  he  lifted  his  hand  languidly.  The  man's 
vitality,  his  sheer  determination,  were  extraordi- 
nary. Even  now  he  was  far  from  impotence.  He 
had,  Howat  had  learned,  completely  dominated  the 
Provincial  Councils,  forced  a  mutual  compromise  and 
agreement  on  them.  He  spoke  of  still  more  compli- 
cated affairs  awaiting  him  in  England.  He  damned 
the  Italian's  "  white  liver,"  and  threatened  to  leave 
him  in  America.  Dr.  Watlow  had  been  forced  to  re- 
turn to  the  city. 

Iftl 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY 'S 


Through  the  unaccustomed  stir  Howat  was  cease- 
lessly aware  of  his  feeling  for  Ludowika ;  he  thought 
of  it  with  a  sense  of  shame ;  but  it  easily  drowned  all 
other  considerations.  He  continued  to  speculate 
about  their  future  together.  Whatever  his  father 
might  conclude  about  his  personal  arrangements,  the 
elder  would  see  that  he  was  necessary  to  the  future 
of  the  Penny  iron.  They  might  live  in  one  of  the 
outlying  stone  dwellings  at  the  Forge  .  .  .  for  the 
present.  He  was  glad  that  Gilbert  Penny,  that  he, 
was  rich.  Ludowika  could  continue  to  dress  in  rare 
fabrics,  to  step  in  elaborate  pattens  over  the  com- 
mon earth.  That  could  not  help  but  influence,  as- 
suage, her  in  the  end.  The  Pennys'  position  in  the 
Province,  too,  was  high ;  the  most  exclusive  assem- 
blies were  open  to  them.  He  regarded  his  satisfac- 
tion in  these  details  with  something  of  Mr.  Wins- 
combe's  bitter  humour.  In  the  past  he  had  repudi- 
ated them  with  the  utmost  scorn.  In  the  past  — 
dim  shapes,  scenes,  that  appeared  to  have  occurred 
years  before,  but  which  in  reality  reached  to  last 
month,  trooped  through  his  mind.  Youth  had  van- 
ished like  a  form  dropping  behind  a  hill.  He  looked 
back;  it  was  gone;  his  feet  hurried  forward  into  the 
unguessed  future;  anxiety  joined  him;  the  scent  that 
was  Ludowika  accompanied  him,  an  Illusive  figure. 
He  reached  toward  it. 

He  was  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  where 
Felix  Winscombe  lay.  The  latter  was  restless,  and 
complained  of  pains  in  his  arms,  reaching  down  to 
132 


THE  FURNACE 


his  fingers.  Ludowika  bent  over  him,  her  face 
stamped  with  concern.  She  regarded  Howat  with  a 
new  expression  —  narrowed  eyes  and  a  glimmer  of 
flawless  teeth:  a  look  he  had  never  foreseen  there; 
but  it  was  impotent  before  the  thing  that  was.  It 
had,  however,  the  effect  of  intensifying  his  desire,  his 
passion  for  her  fragility  of  silk  and  flesh.  He  would 
kiss  her  hate  on  her  mouth. 

She  sat  by  the  bedside,  and  Howat  took  a  place 
opposite  her.  Candles  burned  on  a  highboy,  on 
a  table  at  his  back;  and  their  auriferous  light 
flowed  in  about  the  bedstead.  The  latter  was 
draped  from  the  canopy  to  the  bases  of  the  posts  in 
a  bright  printing  of  pheasants  and  conventional 
thickets  —  cobalt  and  ruby  and  orange ;  and  across 
a  heavy  counterpane  half  drawn  up  stalked  a  row  of 
panoplied  Indians  in  clipped  zephyr.  It  was  a 
nebulous  enclosure  with  the  shadows  of  the  hangings 
wavering  on  the  coloured  wool  and  cold  linen,  on  the 
long,  seamed  countenance  of  the  prostrate  man. 

A  clock  in  the  hall  struck  slowly  —  it  needed  wind- 
ing —  ten  blurred  notes.  Felix  Winscombe  took  a 
sip  of  water.  A  minute  snapping  sounded  from  the 
hearth.  A  window  stirred,  and  there  was  a  dry 
turning  of  leaves  without;  wind.  One  of  the  In- 
dians, Howat  saw,  had  his  arm  raised,  flourishing  a 
blade;  a  stupid  effigy  of  savage  spleen.  Beyond  the 
drapery  Ludowika's  face  was  dim  and  white.  It 
was  like  an  ineffable  May  moon.  Ludowika  .  .  . 
Penny.  For  the  first  time  Howat  thought  of  her 

133 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


endowed  with  his  name,  and  it  gave  him  a  deep  thrill 
of  delight.  He  repeated  it  with  moving  but  sound- 
less lips  —  Ludowika  Penny. 

Her  husband  lay  with  his  eyes  closed,  his  head 
bowed  forward  on  his  chest,  as  if  in  sleep.  At  ir- 
regular intervals  small,  involuntary  contractions  of 
pain  twitched  at  his  mouth.  At  times,  too,  he  mut- 
tered noiselessly.  Extraordinary.  Ludowika  and 
Felix  Winscombe  and  himself,  Howat  Penny.  A 
world  peopled  only  by  them ;  the  silence  of  the  room 
dropped  into  infinite  space,  bottomless  time.  A  sud- 
den dread  of  such  vast  emptiness  seized  Howat;  he 
felt  that  he  must  say  something,  recreate  about 
them  the  illusion  of  safe  and  familiar  spaces  and 
walls.  It  seemed  that  he  was  unable  to  speak;  a 
leaden  inhibition  lay  on  his  power  of  utterance.  He 
made  a  harsh  sound  in  his  throat,  loud  and  startling. 
Felix  Winscombe  raised  his  head,  and  Ludowika 
cried  faintly.  Then  silence  again  folded  them. 

Howat  fastened  his  thoughts  on  trivial  and  prac- 
tical affairs  —  the  furnishing  of  the  house  where  he 
would  take  Ludowika,  what  David  and  himself  in- 
tended to  do  with  the  iron,  and  then  his  last,  long 
talk  with  his  mother.  She  was  astonishingly  wise ; 
she  had  seen  far  into  Ludowika  and  himself,  but  even 
her  vision  had  stopped  short  of  encompassing  the 
magnitude  of  his  passion;  she  had  not  realized  his 
new  patience  and  determination.  He  found  himself 
counting  the  gorgeous  birds  in  the  bed-hangings  — 
134 


THE  FURNACE 


twenty-six,  twenty-seven,  twenty-eight,  and  stopped 
abruptly. 

It  had  grown  chilly  in  the  room,  and  Ludowika 
had  an  India  cashmere  shawl  about  her  shoulders. 
The  sombre  garnets  and  blues  hid  the  tinsel  gaiety 
of  her  gown  and  her  bare  shoulders.  She  appeared 
older  than  he  had  ever  seen  her  before.  Her  face, 
carefully  studied,  showed  no  trace  of  beauty;  her 
eyes  were  heavy,  her  lips  dark ;  any  efforts  of  anima- 
tion were  suspended.  She  showed  completely  the  ef- 
fect of  her  life  in  courts  and  a  careless  prodigality 
of  hours  and  emotions.  Howat,  seeing  all  this,  felt 
only  a  fresh  accession  of  his  hunger  for  her ;  she  was 
far  more  compelling  than  when  romantically  viewed 
as  a  moon. 

He  sat  with  his  chin  propped  on  a  palm ;  she  was 
rigidly  upright  with  her  arms  at  her  sides;  Felix 
Winscombe  moved  higher  on  the  pillows.  His  eyes 
glittered  in  a  head  like  a  modelling  in  clay ;  his  arms 
stirred  ceaselessly  with  weaving  fingers.  Howat 
could  almost  feel  Ludowika's  hatred  striking  at  him 
across  the  bed.  He  smiled  at  her,  and  she  faced  him 
with  an  expression  of  stony  unresponse.  He  thought 
luxuriantly  of  her  in  his  arms,  with  the  rain  beating 
on  the  store  house  roof ;  he  caught  the  odours  of  the 
damp,  heaped  merchandise,  the  distant  clamour  in 
the  casting  shed.  He  had  a  brutal  impulse  to  lean 
forward  and  remind  her  of  what  had  occurred,  of 
the  fact  that  she  was  his;  he  wanted  to  fling  it 

135 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


against  her  present  detachment,  to  mock  her  with 
it.  Then  he  would  crush  her  against  his  heart. 
Felix  Winscombe  raised  up  on  an  elbow,  distorting 
the  row  of  sanguinary  Indians. 

Ludowika  moved  to  the  edge  of  the  bed,  and  put  a 
firm,  graceful  arm  about  him.  A  grey  shadow  of 
pain  fell  on  Mr.  Winscombe's  features.  The  silence 
was  absolute.  He  seemed  to  be  waiting  in  an  atti- 
tude of  mingled  dread  and  resolution.  He  whis- 
pered an  unintelligible  period,  the  pain  on  his  face 
sharpened,  and  he  released  himself  from  Ludowika's 
support.  She  sank  back  on  her  chair,  gazing  at 
her  husband  with  wide,  concerned  eyes. 

Slowly  the  lines  in  his  face  deepened,  and  a  fine, 
gleaming  sweat  started  out  on  his  brow.  His  face 
contorted  in  a  spasm  of  voiceless  suffering,  and  he 
drew  a  stiff  hand  down  either  arm.  Howat  watched 
him  in  a  species  of  strained  curiosity,  with  a  sus- 
pension of  breath.  Something,  he  felt,  should  be 
done  to  relieve  the  oppression  of  agony  gathering 
on  Felix  Winscombe's  countenance,  but  a  corre- 
sponding sense  of  complete  helplessness  settled  like 
a  leaden  coffin  about  him.  The  other  became  un- 
recognizable; his  face  seemed  to  be  set  in  an  unnat- 
ural grin.  His  head  drew  back  on  a  thin,  corded 
neck,  and  a  faint  gasping  for  air  stirred  in  the  shad- 
ows. Even  Howat  felt  the  pain  to  be  unendurable, 
and  Ludowika,  white  as  milk,  had  risen  to  her  feet. 
She  stood  with  a  hand  half  raised  beneath  a  fringed 
corner  of  the  India  shawl. 
136 


THE  FURNACE 


It  was  incredible  that  the  sufferer's  agony  should 
increase,  but  it  was  apparent  that  it  did  remorse- 
lessly. All  humanity  was  obliterated  in  an  excru- 
ciating spasm  over  which  streamed  some  meagre 
tears.  Mr.  Winscombe's  arms  raised  and  dropped; 
and,  suddenly  relaxed,  he  slipped  down  upon  the  pil- 
lows. Immediately  the  torment  vanished  from  his 
countenance;  it  became  peaceful,  released.  The  fa- 
miliar mockery  of  the  mouth  came  back.  The  head, 
slightly  turned,  seemed  to  regard  Ludowika  with 
contentment  and  interrogation.  Howat  was  con- 
scious of  a  relief  almost  as  marked  as  that  on  the 
face  before  him.  He  had  gripped  his  hands  until 
they  ached.  The  tension  in  the  room,  too,  seemed 
spent.  He  was  about  to  address  a  reassuring  pe- 
riod to  Ludowika,  when,  at  a  glimpse  of  her  expres- 
sion, the  words  died  on  his  lips. 

He  bent  over  the  bed,  with  his  hand  on  a  ridged, 
still  chest;  he  gazed  down  at  flaccid  eyes,  a  dropped 
chin.  Felix  Winscombe  was  dead. 

Howat  raised  up  slowly,  facing  the  woman 
through  the  draperies.  She  was  gazing  in  an  in- 
credulous, shocked  surprise  at  the  limp,  prostrate 
body  capped  in  black  gros  de  Naples.  A  shudder- 
ing fear  passed  over  her,  and  then  her  eyes  met  those 
of  Howat  Penny.  Even  separated  from  him  by  the 
bed  she  drew  away  as  if  from  his  touch.  He  saw 
that  she  had  forgotten  the  dead  man  in  a  sharp 
realization  of  the  portent  of  the  living.  She 
glanced  »bout  the  room  in  the  panic  of  a  trapped 

137 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


lark,  an  abject  fright,  searching  for  an  escape. 
He  realized  that  there  was  none;  Ludowika  now 
belonged  to  him  absolutely;  he  was  as  remorseless 
as  the  pain  that  had  killed  Felix  Winscombe.  Below 
the  automatic  sensations  of  the  moment  Howat  was 
conscious  of  utter  satisfaction.  A  miracle  had 
given  Ludowika  to  him;  in  the  passing  of  a  breath 
all  his  difficulty  had  been  ended.  She  was  alone  with 
him  in  a  province  of  forests  and  iron  and  stars.  He 
would  make  her  forget  the  gardens  of  fireworks  and 
scraping  violins ;  but  forget  or  not  she  was  his  .  .  . 
Ludowika  Penny. 


138 


II    THE  FORGE 


JASPER  PENNY  stood  at  a  window  of  his  bed 
room,  his  left  arm  carried  in  a  black  silk 
handkerchief,  gazing  down  at  the  long,  low  roof 
of  Myrtle  Forge,  built  by  his  great,  great  grand- 
father Gilbert  over  a  hundred  and  ten  years  be- 
fore. It  was  February,  and  he  could  hear  the  ring- 
ing blows  of  axes,  cutting  the  ice  out  of  the  forebay 
to  liberate  the  water  power  for  the  completion  of 
a  forging  of  iron  destined  to  be  rolled  into  tracks 
for  the  slowly  lengthening  Columbia  Steam  Railway 
System.  It  was  midday,  a  grey  sky  held  a  brighter, 
diffused  radiance  where  the  veiled  sun  hung  without 
warmth,  and  the  earth  was  everywhere  frozen  gran- 
ite-like. He  could  see  beyond  the  Forge  shed  heaped 
charcoal,  and  the  black  mass  seemed  no  more  dead 
than  the  ground  or  bare,  brittle  trees  sweeping  down 
and  up  to  where,  on  encircling  hills,  they  were  lifted 
sharply  against  the  cloudy  monotony. 

He  was  ordinarily  impervious  to  the  influence  of 
weather,  the  more  depressing  aspects  of  nature ;  but 
now  he  was  conscious  of  a  dejection  communicated, 
in  part  at  least,  he  felt,  by  the  bleak  prospect  with- 
out. Another,  and  infinitely  more  arresting,  reason 
for  this  feeling  had  just  stirred  his  thoughts  —  for 

141 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


the  first  time  he  was  conscious  of  the  invidious,  be- 
ginning weariness  of  accumulating  years.  He  was 
hardly  past  forty,  and  he  impatiently  repudiated  the 
possibility  that  he  was  actually  declining;  in  fact  he 
had  not  yet  reached  the  zenith  of  his  capabilities, 
physical  or  mental;  yet  his  broken  arm,  slow  in 
mending,  the  pain,  had  unquestionably  depleted  him 
more  than  a  similar  accident  ten  years  ago.  Not 
only  this,  but,  during  the  forced  inaction,  his  mind 
had  definitely  taken  a  different  cast;  considerations 
that  had  seemed  to  constitute  the  main  business  of 
existence  had  lately  faded  before  preoccupations  and 
feelings  ignored  until  now. 

Jasper  Penny  saw,  objectively,  not  so  much  the 
surrounding  circumstance  as  his  own  former  acts 
and  emotions ;  detached  from  his  habitual  being  by 
hardly  more  than  a  month  his  past  was  posed  before 
his  critical  judgment.  Looked  at  in  this  manner  his 
life  appeared  crowded  with  surprisingly  meaningless 
gestures  and  words,  his  sheer  youth  an  incompre- 
hensible revolt.  A  greater  part  of  that  had  been 
lately  expressed  by  his  mother,  when  he  had  re- 
turned to  Myrtle  Forge  with  an  arm  broken  by  a  fall 
in  a  railroad  coach  travelling  to  Philadelphia.  She 
had  said,  shaking  her  head  with  tightened  lips : 

"  I  warned  you  plenty  against  those  train  bri- 
gades. It  isn't  safe  nor  sensible  with  a  good  horse 
service  convenient.  But  then  you  have  always  been 
a  knowing,  head-strong  boy  and  man  ...  A  black 
Penny." 

Mi 


THE  FORGE 


How  she  would  get  along  without  thablast  phrase 
he  was  at  a  loss  to  conjecture.  From  his  first  con- 
sciousness he  recalled  it,  now  a  term  of  reproach  and 
now  extenuation.  Only  a  few  weeks  before  she  had 
repeated  it  in  precisely  the  same  tone  of  mingled  ad- 
monition and  complaint  that  had  greeted  his  most 
boyish  mishaps.  He  had  grown  so  accustomed  to  it, 
not  only  from  Gilda  Penny  but  from  every  one  famil- 
iar with  the  Pennys  and  their  history,  that  it  had 
become  part  of  his  automatic  entity.  Jasper  —  a 
black  Penny. 

The  course  of  his  thoughts  turned  back  to  the 
earliest  episodes  remembered  in  that  connection,  to 
a  time  in  which  the  especial  quality  had  necessarily 
freest  play.  Now  he  characterized  it  as  mere  unin- 
formed wildness;  but  he  still  recalled  the  tremen- 
dous impatience  with  which  he  had  met  the  conven- 
ient enclosure  of  a  practicable,  organized  society. 
Even  at  Myrtle  Forge,  where  —  in  contrast  to  dwell- 
ing in  the  confines  of  a  city  —  he  had  had  a  rare 
amount  of  actual  freedom,  a  feeling  of  constriction 
had  sent  him  day  after  day  into  the  woods,  hunting 
or  merely  idle  along  the  upper  reaches  of  still  un- 
sullied streams.  Yet  it  had  been  an  especial  kind 
of  wildness;  he  owed  that  recognition  to  his  van- 
ished youth.  The  term  generally  included  cham- 
pagne parties  and  the  companionship  of  various  but 
similar  ladies  of  the  circus  or  opera  house.  But 
nothing  of  that  had  then  entered  into  his  deep- 
rooted  rebellion.  He  had  had  merely  a  curious  pas- 

143 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


sion  for  complete  independence,  an  innate  turning 
from  street-bound  affairs  and  men  to  the  isolation 
and  physical  accomplishment  of  arduous  excur- 
sions on  horses  or  foot.  He  had,  then,  avoided, 
even  dreaded,  women.  And  that  instinct,  he  told 
himself,  shifting  his  injured  arm  to  a  more  comfort- 
able position,  had  been  admirably  founded. 

The  ax  blows  ceased;  from  his  position  he  could 
just  see  the  top  of  the  great  wheel  that  drove  the 
Forge  trip  hammer ;  and  slowly  the  rim  blurred,  com- 
mencing to  turn.  The  forebay  was  open.  A  pen- 
nant of  black  smoke,  lurid  with  flaming  cinders, 
twisted  up  in  the  motionless  air.  The  hammer  fell 
OPCC,  experimentally,  with  a  faint  jar,  and  a  grimy 
figure  shovelled  charcoal  into  a  barrow. 

His  mind  soon  returned  to  the  point  where  it  had 
been  deflected  by  the  movement  at  the  Forge;  he 
could  even  visualize  his  mature  boyhood  —  a 
straight,  arrogant  figure,  black  certainly,  with  up- 
sloping  brows  and  an  outthrust  chin.  And  that,  he 
thought,  not  without  complacency,  was  not  very  far 
from  a  description  of  himself  at  present.  There 
were,  of  course,  the  whiskers,  severely  trimmed  on 
his  spare  face,  and  showing,  in  certain  lights,  a  glim- 
mer of  silver ;  but  he  was  as  upright,  as  comfortably 
lean,  now  as  then.  He  was  still  capable  of  pro- 
longed physical  exertion  •.  .  .  It  was  ridiculous  to 
think  of  himself  as  definitely  aging.  Yet  he  was 
past  forty,  and  the  years  seemed  to  go  far  more 
swiftly  than  at  twenty-one. 
144 


THE  FORGE 


Women!  The  silent  pronouncement  included  the 
smallest  plural  possible  —  only  two ;  but  it  seemed 
to  Jasper  Penny  that  they  comprised  all  the  vari- 
ations, the  faults  and  virtues,  of  their  entire  sex. 
With  a  certain,  characteristic  formality,  propriety, 
he  considered  his  wife  first,  now  a  year  dead.  He 
wondered  if  she  had  found  the  orthodox  and  concrete 
heaven  in  the  frequent  ecstatic  contemplation  of 
which  so  much  of  her  life  had  been  spent.  It  had 
been  that  fine  superiority  to  the  material  that  had 
first  attracted  him  to  her,  a  quality  of  shining  en- 
thusiasm, of  reflected  inspiration  from  a  vision,  how- 
ever trite,  of  eternal  hymning;  and  it  had  been  that 
same  essence  which  finally  held  them  apart  through 
the  greater  number  of  their  married  years.  Phe- 
be's  health,  slowly  ebbing,  had  drawn  her  farther 
and  farther  from  the  known  world  in  general  and 
the  affairs  and  being  of  her  husband  in  particular; 
her  last  strength  had  gone  in  the  hysteria  of  pro- 
tracted religious  emotion,  during  which  she  had  be- 
come scarcely  more  to  Jasper  Penny  than  an  at- 
tenuated, rapt  invalid  lingering  in  his  house. 

Her  pale,  still  presence  was  usurped  by  a  far 
different,  animated  and  colourful,  figure.  He 
thought  of  Essie  Scofield,  of  all  that  she  para- 
mountly  held  and  expressed,  with  a  reluctance  that 
had  lately,  almost  within  the  past  week,  grown  to 
resemble  resentment,  if  not  actual  irritation.  Yet, 
however,  casting  back  through  the  years,  in  his 
present  remoteness,  he  was  able  to  recreate  her  and 

145 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


his  emotions  as  they  had  first,  irresistibly  moved 
together.  The  absolute  opposite  of  Phebe,  al- 
ready withdrawing  into  her  religious,  incorporeal 
region,  Essie  Scofield  had  immediately  swept  him 
into  the  whirlpool  of  her  vivid,  physical  personality. 
Before  her  the  memory  of  his  wife  faded  into  insig- 
nificance. But  there  was  no  mere  retrospect  in  the 
considering  of  Essie;  very  much  alive  she  presented, 
outside  the  Penny  iron,  the  one  serious  preoccu- 
pation, complication,  of  his  future. 

At  the  time  when  he  had  first  admitted,  welcomed, 
her  claim  on  him,  he  had  felt  a  sudden  energy  in 
which  he  had  recognized  a  play  of  the  traits  of  a 
black  Penny.  Here  was  a  satisfactory,  if  necessa- 
rily private,  exercise  of  his  inborn  contempt  for  the 
evident  hypocrisy,  the  cowardice,  of  perfunctory  in- 
hibitions and  safe  morals.  That,  however,  had  been 
speedily  lost  in  his  rocketing  passion,  flaring  out  of 
a  quiet  continence  into  giddy  spaces  of  unrestraint. 
Essie,  after  a  momentary  surrender,  had  attempted 
retreat,  expressing  a  doubt  of  the  durability  of  their 
feeling;  she  had,  in  fact,  made  it  painfully  clear 
that  she  wished  to  escape  from  the  uncomfortable 
volume  of  his  fervour ;  but  he  had  overborne  her  cau- 
tion —  her  wisdom,  he  now  expressed  it. 

That,  more  than   anything  else,  brought  before 

him  the  undeniable  passage  of  time,  the  fact  that 

he    was    rapidly    accomplishing    middle    age  —  the 

total    extinguishing   of   an   emotion   which   he   had 

146 


THE  FORGE 


felt  must  outlast  life.  It  had  gone,  and  with  it 
his  youth.  Of  course,  he  had  recognized  that  he 
was  no  longer  thirty ;  he  had  been  well  aware  of  his 
years,  but  only  during  the  last  few  weeks  had  there 
been  the  slight,  perceptible  dragging  down  ...  On 
the  black  walnut  dressing  stand  past  the  window  lay 
a  letter  he  had  received  from  Essie  that  morning; 
it  contained  her  usual  appeal  for  an  additional  sum 
of  money  —  he  gave  her,  formally,  six  thousand  dol- 
lars a  year ;  and  the  manner  of  the  demand,  for  the 
necessities  of  their  daughter,  showed  his  sharpened 
perceptions  that  she  had  never  really  experienced  the 
blindness  of  a  generous  emotion.  Eunice,  the  child, 
was  incontrovertible  proof  of  that  —  no  more  than 
an  additional  lever  for  her  to  swing. 

His  face  darkened,  and  he  moved  his  shoulder  im- 
patiently, as  if  to  throw  off  a  burden  grown  unen- 
durable. But  it  was  fastened  immovably  —  his  re- 
sponsibility was  as  baldly  apparent  as  the  Febru- 
ary noon,  its  greyness  now  blotted  by  a  wind-driven, 
metallic  shift  of  snow. 

He  had  been  criminally  negligent  of  Eunice. 
This  realization  was  accompanied  by  no  correspond- 
ing warmth  of  parenthood ;  there  was  no  quickening 
of  blood  at  the  thought  of  his  daughter,  but  only 
a  newborn  condemnation  of  his  neglected,  proper 
pride.  He  had,  thoughtlessly,  descended  to  a  sin- 
gularly low  level  of  conduct.  And  it  must  abruptly 
terminate.  Jasper  Penny  had  not  seen  Eunice  for 

147 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


seven,  nine,  months ;  he  would  remedy  this  at  once, 
supervise  advantages,  a  proper  place,  for  her. 
Afterward  Essie  and  himself  could  make  a  mutually 
satisfactory  agreement. 


148 


XI 

THROUGHOUT  an  excellent  dinner,  terra- 
pin and  bass,  wild  turkey  with  oysters  and 
fruit  preserved  in  white  brandy,  he  main- 
tained a  sombre  silence.  His  mother,  on  the  right, 
her  sister  opposite  —  Phebe's  place  seemed  scarcely 
emptier  than  when  she  had  actually  occupied  it  — 
held  an  intermittent  verbal  exchange  patently 
keyed  to  Jasper  Penny's  mood.  They  were  women 
with  yellow-white,  lace-capped  hair,  blanched  eye- 
brows and  lashes,  and  small,  quick  eyes  on  hardy, 
reddened  faces.  Gilda  Penny  was  slightly  the 
larger,  more  definite ;  Amity  Merken  had  a  timid,  al- 
most furtive,  expression  in  the  opulence  of  the  Penny 
establishment,  while  Gilda  was  complacent;  but 
otherwise  the  two  women  were  identical.  Their 
dresses  were  largely  similar  —  Amity's  a  dun,  Gilda 
Penny's  grey,  moire  silk,  high  with  a  tight  lace 
collar,  and  bands  of  jet  trimming  from  shoulder 
to  waist,  there  spreading  over  crinoline  to  the  floor. 
Lace  fell  about  their  square,  capable  hands,  and 
Gilda  wore  broad,  locked  bracelets  checked  in  black 
and  gold. 

Sherry,  in  blue  cut  decanters  stoppered  with  gilt, 
gave  place  to  port.     An  £pergne  of  glass  and  bur- 

149 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


nished  ormolu,  in  the  form  of  suporting  oak  leaves, 
with  numerous  sockets  for  candles,  was  set,  filled 
with  fruit,  in  the  centre  of  the  table;  silver  lustre 
plates  were  laid;  but  Jasper  Penny  heedlessly 
fingered  the  stem  of  a  wine  glass.  He  said  sud- 
denly, "  I'm  going  to  the  city  this  afternoon." 

"  Is  it  safe  yet?  "  his  mother  queried  doubtfully. 
*'  Hadn't  you  better  wait  till  to-morrow,  when  you 
can  drive  easily,  or  without  stopping  at  a  tavern?  " 

He  looked  up  impatiently.  "  I  shall  go  by  the 
railroad,"  he  stated  decisively.  "  Can't  you  under- 
stand that,  with  the  future  of  iron  almost  dependent 
on  steam,  it  is  the  commonest  foresight  for  me  to 
patronize  such  customers  as  the  Columbia  Railway ! 
I  have  no  intention  of  adding  to  the  ignorant  prej- 
udice against  improved  methods  of  travelling." 

"  There's  your  arm,"  she  insisted  with  spirit. 

"  An  untried  engine.  The  Hecla  works  along 
smoothly  at  twenty  miles  an  hour."  Amity  cast  a 
glance  of  swift  appeal  at  her  sister,  but  Gilda  Penny 
persisted.  "  Ungodly,"  was  the  term  she  selected. 
Jasper  ignored  her.  He  had  decided  to  straighten 
the  tangled  affair  of  Eunice  at  once;  he  would  see 
Essie  that  evening,  arrive  at  an  understanding  about 
the  child's  future.  It  would  be  even  more  difficult 
to  terminate  his  connection  with  Essie  herself. 
That,  he  now  recognised,  was  his  main  desire.  The 
affair  had  actually  died  before  Phebe;  but  its  oner- 
ous consequences  remained,  blighting  the  future. 

The  future!  It  was  that,  he  now  discovered, 
150 


THE  FORGE 


which  occupied  him,  rather  than  the  past.  A  new 
need  had  become  apparent,  a  restless  desire  analogous 
to  the  urge  of  seeking  youth.  Jasper  Penny  was 
aware  of  a  great  dissatisfaction,  a  vast  emptiness,  in 
his  existence;  he  had  a  feeling  of  waste  growing  out 
of  the  sense  of  hurrying  years.  Somehow,  ob- 
scurely, he  had  been  cheated.  He  almost  envied  the 
commonality  of  men,  not,  like  himself,  black  Pennys, 
impatient  of  assuaging  relationships  and  beliefs. 
Yet  this,  too,  turned  into  another  phase  of  his  in- 
heritance —  his  need  was  not  material,  concrete,  it 
had  no  worldly,  graspable  implications,  and  his  gen- 
eral contempt  was  not  less  but  greater.  He  wished 
to  bring  a  final  justification  to  his  isolation  rather 
than  lose  himself  in  the  wide,  undistinguished  surge 
of  living. 

"  You'll  stop  at  the  Jannans  ? "  his  mother 
queried. 

"  I  think  not,  probably  Sanderson's  Hotel. 
Stephen  is  giving  a  ball  to-night  for  Graham  and 
his  wife.  I  have  some  important  transactions." 
Not  an  echo  of  his  affair  with  Essie  Scofield  had,  he 
knew,  penetrated  to  Myrtle  Forge.  It  was  a  most 
fortunate  accident.  The  vulgarity  consequent  upon 
discovery  would  have  been  unbearable.  Stephen 
Jannan,  his  cousin,  a  lawyer  of  wide  city  connec- 
tions, must  have  learned  something  of  the  truth ;  but 
Stephen,  properly,  had  said  nothing;  a  comfortable 
obscurity  had  hid  him  from  gabbled  scandal.  Now, 
soon,  it  would  all  be  over.  Unconsciously  he  drew 

151 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


a  deeper  breath  of  relief,  of  prospective  freedom. 

The  Hecla,  a  wooden  barrelled  engine  with  a  tall, 
hinged  stack,  drew  its  brigade  of  canary-coloured 
chariot  cars  forward  with  a  rapid  bumping  over  in- 
equal  rails.  Jasper  Penny's  seat,  number  nineteen, 
was  fortunately  in  the  centre,  close  by  the  stove, 
where  a  warmth  hung  that  failed  to  reach  to  the 
doors.  Lost  in  speculation  the  journey  was  both 
long  and  vague.  Twilight  deepened  within  the  car, 
and  two  flickering  candles  were  lit  at  either  end,  their 
pallid  light  serving  only  to  cast  thin,  climbing 
shadows  over  the  rocking,  box-like  interior.  At  ir- 
regular intervals  the  train  stopped  with  a  succes- 
sion of  subsiding  crashes,  and  started  again  at  the 
blowing  of  a  horn ;  passengers  would  leave  or  enter ; 
or  it  would  prove  to  be  merely  a  halt  to  take  on  cut 
and  piled  wood  fuel  for  the  engine. 

Finally  the  train  brigade  reached  the  inclined  plane 
leading  to  the  river  and  city;  the  engine  was  de- 
tached, and  the  cars,  fastened  to  a  hemp  cable,  were 
lowered  spasmodically  to  where  a  team  of  mules 
drew  them  through  a  gloomy,  covered  bridge  echoing 
to  the  slow  hoof  falls  and  creaking  of  loose  planks. 
Jasper  Penny  fastened  the  elaborate  frogs  of  his 
heavily  furred  overcoat  over  his  injured  arm,  and 
with  a  florid  bandanna  wiped  the  cinders  from  his 
silk  hat. 

The  coaches  rolled  into  the  station  shed,  where  he 
changed,  taking  a  swaying  Mulberry  Street  omni- 
bus to  Fourth,  and  Sanderson's  Hotel.  It  was  a 
152 


THE  FORGE 


towering,  square  structure  of  five  stories,  with  a 
columned  white  portico,  and  high,  divided  steps. 
The  clerk,  greeting  him  with  a  precise  familiar  def- 
erence, directed  him  to  a  select  suite  with  a  private 
parlour,  a  sombre  chamber  of  red  plush,  dark  walls 
and  thickly  draped,  long  windows.  There  he  sat 
grimly  contemplating  a  distasteful  prospect.  He 
knew  the  casual,  ill-prepared  dinners  presided  over 
by  Essie,  the  covertly  insolent  man  servant ;  and  an 
overpowering  reluctance  came  upon  him  to  sit  again 
at  her  table.  But  the  confusion  of  the  hotel  ordi- 
nary repelled  him  too :  he  had  seen  in  passing  a  num- 
ber of  men  who  would  endeavour  to  force  his  opinion 
on  the  specie  situation  or  speculation  in  canals.  He 
rose  and  pulled  sharply  at  the  tasselled  bell  rope, 
ordering  grilled  pheasant,  anchovy  toast  and  cham- 
pagne to  be  served  where  he  sat. 

Jasper  Penny  ate  slowly,  partly  distracted  by  the 
market  reports  in  the  U.  S.  Gazette.  Ninety-two 
and  a  half  had  been  offered  for  Schuylkill  Naviga- 
tion, only  fifteen  for  the  West  Chester  Railroad,  but 
Philadelphia  and  Trenton  had  gone  to  ninety-eight; 
while  a  three  and  a  half  dividend  had  been  declared 
on  the  French  Town  Turnpike  and  Railway  Com- 
pany. He  was  annoyed  afresh  by  the  persistent  re- 
fusal of  the  Government  to  award  the  mail  to  the 
Reading  Steam  System.  His  thoughts  returned  to 
Eunice,  his  daughter,  the  coming  scene  —  it  would 
at  least  be  that  —  with  Essie  Scofield. 

It  was  but  a  short  distance  from  the  hotel  to 

153 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


where  Essie  lived,*  over  Fourth  Street  to  Cherry ;  and 
almost  immediately  he  turned  by  the  three  story 
brick  dwelling  at  the  corner  and  was  at  her  door. 
The  servant,  in  an  untidy  white  jacket,  stood 
stupidly  blocking  the  narrow  hall,  until  Jasper 
Penny  with  an  angry  impatience  waved  him  aside. 
There  were  other  silk  hats  and  coats,  and  a  woman's 
fringed  wrap,  on  the  stand  where  he  left  his  stick 
and  outer  garments ;  and  from  above  came  a  peal  of 
mingled  laughter.  The  presence  of  others,  now,  was 
singularly  inopportune ;  it  would  be  no  good  waiting 
for  their  departure  —  here  such  gatherings  almost 
invariably  drew  out  until  dawn ;  and  he  abruptly  de- 
cided that,  after  a  short  interval,  he  would  give  Essie 
to  understand  that  he  wished  to  talk  to  her  privately. 
A  young  woman  with  a  chalk-white  face  and 
oleaginous  bandeaux  of  dead  black  hair,  in  scarlet 
and  green  tartan  over  an  extravagant  crinoline^ 
was  seated  on  a  sofa  between  two  men,  each  with  an 
arm  about  her  waist  and  wine  glasses  elevated  in 
their  free  hands.  Essie  was  facing  them  from  a 
circular  floor  hassock,  in  a  blue  satin,  informal  robe 
over  mussed  cambric  ruffles,  heelless  nonchalants,  and 
her  hair  elaborately  dressed  with  roses,  white  rib- 
bons and  a  short  ostrich  feather.  Her  body,  at 
once  slim  and  full,  was  consciously  seductive,  and 
her  face,  slightly  swollen  and  pasty  in  the  shadows, 
bore  the  same,  heedless  unrestraint.  Her  dark, 
widely-opened  eyes,  an  insignificant  nose  and  shortly 
curved,  scarlet  lips,  held  almost  the  fixed,  painted 
154 


THE  FORGE 


impudence  of  a  cynically  debased  doll.  She  turned 
and  surveyed  Jasper  Penny  with  a  petulant,  silent 
inquiry,  and  whatever  gaiety  was  in  progress  ab- 
ruptly terminated  as  he  advanced  into  the  room. 

"  You  never  let  me  know  you'd  be  here,"  Essie 
complained ;  "  but  I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  glad  to 
see  you  anyway  —  after  four  months  without  a  line. 
Jasper,  Mr.  Daniel  Culser."  The  younger  of  the 
men  on  the  sofa,  a  stolidly  handsome  individual 
with  hard,  blue  eyes,  rose  with  an  over-emphasized 
composure.  "  Mr.  Penny,  extremely  pleased." 
Jasper  Penny  was  irritated  by  the  other's  instant 
identification,  and  he  nodded  bluntly.  "  Lambert 
Babb  and  Myrtilla  Lewis,"  Essie  continued  indif- 
ferently. Babb,  an  individual  of  inscrutable  age, 
with  ashen  whiskers  and  a  blinking,  weak  vision  in 
a  silvery  face,  was  audibly  delighted.  Myrtilla  Lewis 
smiled  professionally  over  her  expanse  of  bewilder- 
ing silk  plaid.  "  Wine  in  the  cooler,"  Essie  added, 
and  Daniel  Culser  moved  to  where  a  silver  bucket  re- 
posed by  a  tray  of  glasses  and  broken,  sugared  rusks. 
Jasper  Penny  refused  the  offered  drink,  and  found 
a  chair  apart  from  the  others.  A  moody  silence 
enveloped  him  which  he  found  impossible  to  break, 
and  an  increasing  uneasiness  spread  over  the  room. 

"  Well,"  Essie  Scofield  commanded,  "  say  some- 
thing. You  look  as  black  as  an  Egyptian. 
What'll  my  friends  think  of  you?  I  suppose  it 
doesn't  matter  any  more  what  it  is  to  me;  but  you 
might  play  at  being  polite." 

155 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


"  Don't  chip  at  a  man  like  that,"  Myrtilla  ad- 
vised. "  Mr.  Penny  has  a  right  to  talk  or  not." 
She  smiled  more  warmly  at  him,  and  he  saw  that  she 
had  had  too  much  champagne.  The  room  reeked 
with  the  thin,  acrid  odour  of  the  wine,  and  a  sickly 
perfume  of  vanilla  essence.  Essie,  as  usual,  had  a 
glass  of  her  favourite  drink  —  orange  juice  and 
French  brandy  —  on  the  floor  beside  her,  the  brandy 
bottle  and  fresh  oranges  conveniently  near.  His 
repulsion  for  her  deepened  until  it  seemed  as  if 
actual  fingers  were  compressing  his  throat,  stop- 
ping his  breath.  He  wondered  suddenly  how  far 
he  was  responsible  for  her  possible  degeneration. 
But  he  had  not  been  the  first;  her  admission  of  that 
fact  had  in  the  beginning  attracted  him  to  an  un- 
common frankness  in  her  peculiar  make-up.  He  was 
willing  to  assume  his  fault,  to  pay  for  it,  whatever 
payment  was  possible,  and  escape  .  .  .  Not  only 
from  her,  but  from  all  that  she  embodied,  from  him- 
self —  what  he  had  been  —  as  much  as  anything 
else. 

"  You  are  an  Ironmaster,"  Mr.  Babb  finally  an- 
nounced ;  "  in  fact,  one  of  our  greatest  manufactur- 
ers. Now,  Mr.  Penny,  what  is  your  personal  opin- 
ion of  engine  as  against  the  public  coach?  Will  the 
railroad  survive  the  experimental  stage,  and  are  such 
gentlemen  as  yourself  behind  it?" 

"  I  saw  in  the  Ledger  some  days  back,"  Daniel 
Culser   added,   "  that   your   arm  had   been   broken 
travelling  by  steam." 
156 


THE  FORGE 


"  One  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  other,"  Jasper 
stated  tersely,  ignoring  Babb's  query,  "  but  was  en- 
tirely my  own  fault."  The  conversation  lagged 
painfully  again,  during  which  Essie  skilfully  com- 
pounded another  mixture  of  spirits  and  thick,  yellow 
juice.  She  grew  sullen  with  resentment  at  Jasper 
Penny's  attitude,  and  exchanged  enigmatic  glances 
with  Culser.  The  liquor  brought  a  quick  flush  to 
her  slightly  pendulous  cheeks,  and  she  was  enveloped 
in  an  increasing  bravado.  "  Penny's  a  solemn  old 
boy,"  she  announced  generally.  Lambert  Babb  at- 
tempted to  embrace  Myrtilla,  but,  her  gaze  on  the 
newcomer,  she  pushed  him  away.  *'  You  got  to  be 
a  gentleman  with  me,"  she  proclaimed  with  a  pat- 
ently unsteady  dignity.  "  My  grandfather  was  a 
French  noble." 

"  What  I'd  like  to  know,"  Essie  remarked,  "  is 
what's  his  granddaughter?  " 

"  Better'n  you !  "  Myrtilla  heatedly  asserted ; "  one 
who'd  appreciate  a  real  man,  and  not  be  playing 
about  private  with  a  tailor's  dummy."  Daniel  Cul- 
ser's  face  grew  noticeably  pinker.  "  I'm  going," 
Myrtilla  continued,  rising.  "  Mr.  Penny,  I'd  be 
happy  to  meet  you  under  more  social  conditions. 
Here  I  cannot  remain  for  —  for  reasons.  I  might 
be  tempted  to  — "  Mr.  Babb  caught  her  arm  under 
his,  and,  at  an  imperious  gesture  from  Essie,  piloted 
her  from  the  room.  Culser  rose. 

"  Don't  go,  Dan,"  Essie  Scofield  told  him  defiantly. 
But  Jasper  Penny  maintained  a  silence  that  forced 

157 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

the  younger  man  to  make  a  stiff  exit.  "  Well," 
Essie  demanded,  flinging  herself  on  the  deserted 
sofa,  "  now  you've  spoiled  my  evening.  Why  did 
you  come  at  all  if  you  couldn't  behave  genteel?  " 

"Where,  exactly,  is  Eunice?"  he  asked  abruptly. 

She  glanced  at  him  with  an  instant  masking  of 
her  resentment.  "  I've  told  you  a  hundred  times  — 
'in  the  house  of  a  very  respectable  clergyman.  My 
letter  was  clear  enough ;  she's  had  bronchitis,  and 
there's  the  doctor,  and  — " 

"Just  where  is  Eunice?"  he  repeated,  interrupt- 
ing her  aggrieved  recital. 

"  Where  I  put  her,"  her  voice  grew  shrill.  "  You 
haven't  asked  to  see  her  for  near  a  year,  you  haven't 
even  pretended  an  interest  in  —  in  your  own  daugh- 
ter. I've  done  the  best  I  could;  you  know  I  don't 
like  children  around ;  but  I  have  attended  to  as  much 
of  my  duty  as  you.  Now  you  come  out  and  insist 
on  being  unpleasant  all  in  an  hour.  Why  didn't  you 
write?  I'd  had  her  here  for  you.  Come  back  in 
two  or  three  days." 

"  To-morrow,"  he  replied.  "  I  am  going  to  see 
her  in  the  morning." 

"  You  just  ain't.  I  did  the  best  I  knew,  but,  if 
it  isn't  all  roses,  you'll  blame  everything  on  me.  I 
will  have  Eunice  fetched  — " 

"  Where  is  she? "  he  asked  still   again,  wearily. 

Every  instinct  revolted  against  the  degradation 
into  which  he  had  blindly  walked.  His  youth  had 
betrayed  him,  involving  him,  practically  a  different 
158 


THE  FORGE 


man,  in  a  payment  which  he  realized  had  but  com- 
menced .  .  .  To  escape.  He  had  first  thought  of 
that  with  the  unconscious  conviction  that  the  mere 
wish  carried  its  fulfilment.  In  fact,  it  would  be  im- 
mensely difficult ;  a  man,  he  saw,  could  not  sever  him- 
self so  casually  from  the  past;  it  reached  without 
visible  demarcation  into  the  present,  the  future. 
All  was  a  piece,  one  with  another;  and  Essie  Sco- 
field  was  drawn  in  a  vivid  thread  through  the  en- 
tire fabric  of  his  being. 

Yet  the  need,  the  longing  forward,  so  newly  come 
into  his  consciousness,  persisted,  grew  —  it  had  be- 
come the  predominate  design  of  his  weaving. 
Through  this  he  recognized  a  reassertion  of  his  pride, 
the  rigid  pride  of  a  black  Penny,  which,  in  the  years 
immediately  past,  had  been  overwhelmed  by  a  tem- 
porary inner  confusion.  Beyond  forty  men  re- 
turned to  their  inheritance,  their  blood;  this  fact 
echoed  vaguely  among  his  memories  of  things  heard ; 
and  he  felt  in  himself  its  measure  of  truth.  His 
distaste  for  a  largely  muddled,  pandering  society, 
for  men  huddled,  he  thought,  like  domestic  animals, 
returned  in  choking  waves.  In  the  maculate  atmos- 
phere of  flat  wine  and  stale  cologne  he  had  a  sharp 
recurrence  of  the  scent  of  pines,  lifting  warmly  in 
sunny  space. 

He  produced  a  morocco  bound  note  book,  a  gold 
pencil ;  and,  with  the  latter  poised,  directed  a  close 
interrogation  at  Essie.  Her  face  flushed  with  an 
ungovernable  anger,  and  she  pressed  a  hand  over 

159 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


her  labouring  heart.  "  Get  her  then ;  out  Fourth 
Street,  Camden;  the  Reverend  Mr.  Needles.  But 
afterwards  don't  come  complaining  to  me.  You 
ought  to  have  seen  to  her ;  you've  got  the  money,  the 
influence.  And  you  have  done  nothing,  beyond  some 
stinking  dollars  .  .  .  wouldn't  even  name  her. 
Eunice  Scofield,  a  child  without  — " 

All  that  she  had  said  was  absolutely  true,  just. 

"  I  suppose  you'll  even  think  I  didn't  give  her  the 
sums  you  sent;  that  damned  Needles  has  been  bleed- 
ing me,  suspects  something."  She  stopped  from  a 
lack  of  breath;  her  darkened  face  was  purplish  in 
the  shadows.  "  I  haven't  been  well,  either  —  a 
fierce  pain  here,  in  my  heart." 

It  was  the  brandy,  he  told  her;  she  should  leave 
the  city,  late  wine  parties,  go  back  into  the  coun- 
try. "Go  back,"  she  echoed  bitterly.  "Where? 
How  ? "  He  winced  —  the  past  reaching  inex- 
orably into  the  future.  Jasper  Penny  made  no  at- 
tempt to  ignore,  forget,  his  responsibility;  he  ad- 
mitted it  to  her ;  but  at  the  same  time  the  tyrannical 
hunger  increased  within  him  —  the  mingled  desire 
for  fresh  paths  and  the  nostalgia  of  the  old  freedom 
of  spirit.  But  life,  that  had  made  him,  had  in  the 
same  degree  created  Essie;  neither  had  been  the  re- 
sult of  the  other;  they  had  been  swept  together, 
descended  blindly  in  company,  submerged  in  the 
passion  that  he  had  thought  must  last  forever,  but 
which  had  burned  to  ashes,  to  nothing  more  than 
a  vague  sense  of  putrefaction  in  life. 
160 


THE  FORGE 


"  Thank  you,"  he  said  formally,  putting  away  the 
note  book.  "  Something,  of  course,  must  be  done ; 
but  what,  I  can  only  say  after  I  have  seen  Eunice. 
I  am,  undoubtedly,  more  to  blame  than  yourself." 

"  I  suppose,  in  this  holy  strain,  you'll  end  by 
giving  her  all  and  me  nothing." 

".  .  .  what  you  are  getting  as  long  as  you  live?  " 

"  That's  little  enough,  when  I  hear  how  much  you 
have,  what  all  that  iron  is  bringing  you.  Why,  you 
could  let  me  have  twenty,  thirty  thousand,  and  never 
know  it." 

"  If  you  are  unable  to  get  on,  that  too  will  be 
rectified." 

"  You  are  really  not  a  bad  old  thing,  Jasper,"  she 
pronounced,  mollified.  "  At  one  time  —  do  you  re- 
member ?  —  you  said  if  ever  the  chance  came  you 
would  marry  me.  Ah,  you  needn't  fear,  I  wouldn't 
have  you  with  all  your  iron,  gold.  I  — "  she  stopped 
abruptly,  uneasily.  "  Not  a  bad  old  thing,"  she 
repeated,  moving  to  secure  a  half-full  glass. 

"  Why  do  you  call  me  old  ?  "  he  asked  curiously. 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  it  before,"  she  admitted ; 
"  but,  this  evening,  you  looked  so  solemn,  and  there 
is  grey  in  your  hair,  that  all  at  once  you  seemed  like 
an  old  gentleman.  Now  Dan  Culser,"  she  hesitated, 
and  then  swept  on,  "  he's  what  you'd  name  young." 
At  Daniel  Culser's  age,  he  told  himself,  he,  Jasper 
Penny,  could  have  walked  the  other  blind;  and  now 
Essie  Scofield  was  calling  him  old ;  she  had  noticed 
the  grey  in  his  hair.  He  rose  to  go,  and  she  came 

161 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


close  to  him,  a  clinging,  soft  thing  of  flesh  faintly 
reeking  with  brandy.  "  I  have  a  great  deal  to  pay, 
where  money  goes  I  don't  know,  even  a  little  would 
be  a  help."  He  left  some  gold  in  her  hand,  thankful 
to  purchase,  at  that  slight  price,  a  momentary  re- 
lease. 

Outside  Cherry  Street  was  blackly  cold,  a  gas 
lamp  at  the  corner  shed  a  watery,  contracted  illumi- 
nation. He  made  his  way  back  toward  the  hotel, 
but  a  sudden  reluctance  to  mount  to  his  lonely  cham- 
bers possessed  him.  Before  the  glimmering  marble 
fa£ade  he  took  out  his  watch,  a  pale  gold  efflores- 
cence in  the  gloom,  and  rang  the  hour  in  minute,  clear 
notes.  The  third  quarter  past  ten.  He  recalled 
the  ball,  but  then  commencing,  at  Stephen  Jannan's ; 
there  it  would  be  indescribably  gay,  a  house  flooded 
with  the  music  of  quadrilles,  light,  polite  chatter; 
and  he  determined  to  proceed  and  have  a  cigar  with 
Stephen. 

He  walked  briskly  up  Mulberry  Street  to  Sixth 
and  there  turned  to  the  left.  Jasper  Penny  soon 
passed  the  shrouded  silence  of  Independence  Square, 
with  the  new  Corinthian  doorway  of  the  State  House 
showing  vaguely  through  the  irregularly  grouped 
ailanthus  trees.  Beyond,  the  brick  wall  with  its 
marble  coping  and  high  iron  fence  reached,  on  the 
opposite  side,  to  the  Jannan  corner.  The  length 
of  the  brick  dwelling,  with  white  arched  windows 
and  coursings  faced  the  vague  emptiness  of  Wash- 
ington Square,  closed  for  the  winter. 
162 


THE  FORGE 


Inside  the  hall  was  bright  and  filled  with  the 
pungent  warmth  of  fat  hearth  coal.  A  servant, 
with  a  phrase  of  recognition,  directed  him  above,  to 
a  room  burdened  with  masculine  greatcoats  and  silk 
hats.  There  an  attendant  told  him  that  Mr.  Jan- 
nan  was  below.  Jasper  Penny  had  no  intention  of 
becoming  a  participant  in  the  ball,  but  neither  did 
he  propose  to  linger  among  wraps,  listening  to  the 
supercilious  chatter  of  young  men  in  the  extreme 
mode  of  bright  blue  coats,  painfully  tight  black 
trousers  with  varnished  pumps  and  expanses  of  ankle 
in  grey  silk.  One,  inspecting  him  through  an  eye- 
glass on  a  woven  hair  guard,  expressed  a  pointed 
surprise  at  Jasper  Penny's  informal  garb.  "  Chris- 
toval !  "  he  ejaculated.  "  It  approaches  an  insult  to 
the  da-da-darlings."  Another  commenced  to  sing  a 
popular  minstrel  air: 

"Blink  — a  — ho  — dink!    Ah!    Ho! 

"  Roley  Boley  —  Good  morning  Ladies  all  I " 

Jasper  Penny  abruptly  descended  to  a  small  room 
used  for  smoking.  Young  men,  he  thought  impa- 
tiently, could  no  longer  even  curse  respectably. 
They  lisped  like  females  at  an  embroidery  frame. 
When  he  was  young,  younger,  he  corrected  himself, 
he  could  have  outdrunk,  outridden  .  .  .  His  train  of 
thought  was  abruptly  terminated  by  a  group  un- 
expectedly occupying  the  smoking  room.  He  saw 
Stephen  Jannan,  his  wife  Liza,  the  newly  married 
young  Jannans,  and  a  strange  woman  in  glace  mus- 

163 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

lin  and  a  black  Spanish  lace  shawl  about  her  shoul- 
ders. Stephen  greeted  him  cordially.  "  Jasper, 
just  at  the  moment  for  a  waltz  with  —  with  Susan." 
The  stranger  blushed  painfully,  made  an  involun- 
tary movement  backward,  and  Liza  Jannan  admon- 
ished her  husband.  "  Do  you  know  Miss  Brundon, 
Jasper?  "  she  asked. 

Jasper  Penny  bowed,  and  Miss  Brundon,  with  an 
evident  effort,  smiled,  her  shy,  blue  eyes  held  reso- 
lutely on  his  countenance.  She  at  once  slipped  into 
the  background,  talking  in  a  low,  clear  voice  to 
Graham  Jannan's  wife;  while  the  older  men  envel- 
oped themselves  in  a  fragrant  veil  of  cigars. 
"  Come,  Mary,  Susan,"  Mrs.  Jannan  directed,  "  out 
of  this  horrid,  masculine  odour."  Accompanied  by 
her  son  the  women  left,  and  Stephen  turned  to  his 
cousin.  "  Thought,  of  course,  you  knew  Susan 
Brundon,"  he  remarked.  "  A  school  mistress,  but 
superior,  and  a  lady.  Has  a  place  on  Spruce 
Street,  by  Raspberry  Alley,  for  select  younger  girls ; 
unique  idea,  and  very  successful,  I  believe." 

Jasper  Penny  said  comfortably,  "  Humm !  "  The 
other  continued,  "  I  want  Graham  to  get  out  to 
Shadrach  Furnace  as  soon  as  may  be.  That  old 
stone  house  the  foremen  have  occupied  is  nearly  fixed 
for  him.  I  am  very  well  content,  Jasper,  to  have 
him  in  the  iron  trade,  with  you  practically  at  its 
head.  No  deliberate  favours,  remember,  and  I  have 
told  him  to  look  for  nothing.  But,  at  the  same 
time  —  you  comprehend:  folly  not  to  push  the  boy 
164 


THE  FORGE 


on  fast  as  possible.  No  reason  for  us  all  to  go 
through  with  the  hardships  of  the  first  Gilbert  and 
his  times.  Must  have  been  fatiguing,  the  wilderness 
and  English  troubles  and  all  that." 

"  Splendid,  I  should  say,"  Jasper  Penny  replied. 
He  repeated  satirically  the  conversation  he  had 
heard  above.  "  Makes  me  ill.  You  will  remember 
there  was  a  Howat,  son  of  our  original  settler  — 
now  he  must  have  been  a  lad!  Married  some  widow 
or  other;  wild  at  first,  but  made  iron  in  the  end." 

"  A  black  Penny,  Jasper ;  resembled  you.  Person- 
ally, I  like  it  better  now."  Jasper  Penny  surveyed 
with  approbation  Stephen's  full,  handsome  presence. 
Jannan  was  a  successful,  a  big,  man.  Well,  so  was 
he  too.  But  he  thought  with  keen  longing  of  the 
time  when  he  was  twenty-one,  and  free,  free  to  roam 
self-sufficient.  He  thought  of  that  Howat  Penny 
of  which  they  had  spoken,  black  as  he  was  black  in 
the  family  tradition;  he  had  seen  Hesselius's  por- 
trait of  the  other;  and,  but  for  the  tied  hair  and 
continental  buff,  it  might  have  been  a  replica  of 
himself.  It  was  curious  —  that  dark  strain  of 
Welsh  blood,  cropping  out  undiminished,  concrete, 
after  generations.  The  one  to  hold  it  before  Howat 
had  been  burned  in  Mary's  time,  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  dead  almost  three  hundred  years.  Jasper 
had  a  sudden,  vivid  sense  of  familiarity  with  the 
Howat  who  had  married  some  widow  or  other.  His 
mind  returned  to  his  own,  peculiar  problem,  to  Essie 
Scofield,  to  the  burden  with  which  he  had  encumbered 

165 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

himself,  the  payment  that  faced  him  for  —  for  his 
sheer  youth.  He  said  abruptly,  belated: 

"  You  fit  the  present  formal  ease  of  society, 
Stephen ;  you  like  it  and  it  likes  you.  In  a  super- 
ficial way  I  have  done  well  enough,  but  under- 
neath — "  his  voice  sank  into  silence.  A  profound, 
familiar  dejection  seized  him ;  incongruously  he 
thought  of  Miss  Brundon's  delicate  shrinking  from 
the  mere  contact  of  the  amenities  of  speech.  Super- 
sensitive.  "  I  must  go,"  he  announced,  and  refused 
Stephen  Jannan's  invitation  for  the  night. 

"  Stay  for  some  supper,  anyhow,"  the  other  in- 
sisted, and,  a  hand  on  his  arm,  led  him  past  the 
doors  open  upon  the  dancing. 

Chandeliers,  great  coruscating  pendants  of  glass 
prisms  and  candles,  glittered  above  the  expanse 
of  whirling  crinoline  and  blue  coats,  vermilion 
turbans,  gilt  feathers  and  flowered  hair.  The  light 
fell  on  shoulders  as  white  and  elegantly  sloping 
as  alabaster  vases,  draped  in  rose  and  citron,  in 
blanched  illusion  frosted  and  looped  with  silver; 
on  bouquets  of  camellias  swinging  from  jewelled 
chains  against  ruffled  and  belled  skirts  swaying  about 
the  revealed  symmetry  of  lacy  silk  stockings  and 
fragile  slippers.  "  Ah,  Jasper,"  Stephen  Jannan 
said ;  "  in  our  time,  what !  Do  you  remember  your 
first  Wellington  boots?  The  gambling  room  and 
veranda  at  Saratoga?  Tender  eyes,  old  boy,  and 
little  tapering  hands."  Jasper  Penny  replied,  "  It 
seems  my  hair  is  grey."  Silence  fell  on  them  as  they 
166 


THE  FORGE 


entered  the  dining  room.  A  long  table  was  bur- 
dened with  elaborate  pagodas  of  spun  barley  sugar 
topped  with  sprigs  of  orange  blossom,  the  moulded 
creams  of  a  Charlotte  Polonaise,  champagne  jelly 
valanced  with  lemon  peel,  pyramids  of  glazed  fruits 
on  lacquered  plates;  with  faintly  iridescent  Belleek 
and  fluted  glass  and  ormolu;  and,  everywhere,  the 
pale  multitudinous  flames  of  candles  and  the  fuller 
radiance  of  astral  lamps  hung  with  lustres.  Jasper 
Penny  idly  tore  open  a  bon  bon  wrapped  in  a  verse 
on  fringed  paper. 

"  Viens!  Viens!  ange  du  del,  je  t'aime!  je  t'aime! 
Et  te  le  dire  ici,  c'est  le  bonheur  supreme." 

Love  and  the  great  hour  of  life!  He  had  missed 
both;  one,  perhaps,  with  the  other.  His  marriage 
to  Phebe,  except  for  a  brief  flare  at  the  beginning, 
had  been  as  empty  as  the  affair  with  Essie  Scofield. 
God,  how  hollow  living  seemed!  He  had  missed 
something;  or  else  existence  was  an  ugly  deception, 
the  false  lure  of  an  incomprehensible  jest.  The 
music  beat  in  faint,  mocking  waves  on  his  hearing, 
the  lights  of  the  supper  shone  in  the  gold  bubbles 
of  his  wine  glass.  He  drained  it  hurriedly.  Out- 
side the  night,  lying  cold  on  deserted  squares,  blurred 
with  gas  lamps,  was  like  a  vain  death  after  the  idle 
frivolity  of  Stephen  Jannan's  ball.  In  an  instant, 
in  the  shutting  of  a  door,  the  blackness  had  claimed 
him ;  the  gaiety  of  warm  flesh  and  laughter  vanished. 
Death  .  .  .  and  he  had  literally  nothing  in  his 

167 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


hands,  nothing  in  his  heart.  A  duty,  Eunice,  re- 
mained. The  sound  of  his  footfalls  on  the  bricks, 
thrown  back  from  blank  walls,  resembled  the  em- 
bodied, stealthy  following  of  the  injustice  he  had 
wrought. 


168 


xn 

THE  following  morning  he  made  his  way  past 
the  continuous  produce  arcade  that  held 
the  centre  of  Market  Street  to  the  Cam- 
den  Ferry.  At  the  river  the  fish  stall,  with  its  cir- 
cular green  roof  and  cornucopias,  reached  almost  to 
the  gloomy  ferry-house  with  its  heavy  odour  of  wet 
wood.  The  boat  clattered  through  broken  ice,  by  a 
trim  packet  ship,  the  Susquehanna,  and  into  the  nar- 
row canal  through  Windmill  Island.  Camden  was  a 
depressing  region  of  low,  marshy  land,  its  streets  un- 
paved  and  without  gas,  the  gutters  full  of  frozen, 
stagnant  water.  He  inquired  the  way  to  the  Rev- 
erend Mr.  Needles',  passed  a  brick  meeting  house, 
and,  turning  into  Fourth  Street,  isolated  frame  dwell- 
ings, coming  at  last  to  a  dingy  wooden  house  with 
broken  panes  in  the  upper  windows  and  a  collapsing 
veranda  at  the  edge  of  a  blackened,  skeleton  wood. 

A  tall,  gaunt  woman  in  a  ravelled  worsted  shawl 
answered  his  summons,  and  informed  him,  inter- 
rupted by  a  prolonged  coughing,  that  Mr.  Needles 
was  away  on  circuit.  "  I  came  for  a  child  staying 
with  you,"  Jasper  Penny  explained  shortly,  sup- 
pressing an  involuntary  repulsion  at  the  degraded 
surroundings.  "  She's  not  well,"  the  woman  replied, 

169 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


with  instant  suspicion.  "  I  don't  just  like  to  let  a 
chancy  person  see  her."  He  discarded  all  subter- 
fuge. "  I  am  her  father,"  he  stated.  The  other 
shifted  to  a  whining  self-defence.  "  And  her  in  this 
sink ! "  she  exclaimed,  gazing  at  Jasper  Penny's 
furred  coat,  his  glossy  hat  and  gloves  and  ebony 
cane. 

"  I  did  all  for  her  I  could,  considering  the  small 
money  I  was  promised,  and  then  half  the  time  I 
didn't  get  that,  neither.  The  lady  owes  for  three 
weeks  right  now.  I  suppose  you'll  have  to  come  in," 
she  concluded  grudgingly.  They  entered  a  dark 
hall,  clay  cold.  Beyond,-  in  a  slovenly  kitchen 
hardly  warmer,  he  found  Eunice,  his  daughter;  a 
curiously  sluggish  child  with  a  pinched,  hueless  face 
and  a  meagre  body  in  a  man's  worn  flannel  shirt  and 
ragged  skirt  and  stockings. 

"Here's  your  father,"  Mrs.  Needles  ejaculated. 

Eunice  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  bare  floor,  star- 
ing with  pallid,  open  mouth  at  the  imposing  figure 
of  the  man.  She  said  nothing;  and  Jasper  Penny 
found  her  silence  more  accusing  than  a  shrill  tor- 
rent of  reproach.  "  She's  kind  of  heavy  like,"  Mrs. 
Needles  explained.  "  I  have  come  to  take  you 
away,"  Jasper  Penny  said.  Then,  turning  to  the 
woman :  "  Are  those  all  the  clothes  she  has  ?  "  She 
grew  duskily  red.  "  There  are  some  others  about, 
but  I  don't  just  know  where,  and  then  she  spoils  them 
so  fast." 

"  That's  a  lie,"  the  child  announced,  with  a  faint 
170 


patch  of  colour  on  either  thin  cheek.  "  Mr.  Needles 
sold  them."  The  man  decided  to  ignore  such  issues ; 
his  sole  wish  now  was  to  take  Eunice  away  as  speed- 
ily as  possible.  "  Well,"  he  directed  impatiently, 
"  get  a  shawl,  something  to  wrap  her  in."  He  re- 
gretted vainly  that  he  had  not  come  for  the  child  in 
a  carriage.  He  paid  without  a  question  what  the 
woman  said  was  owing;  and,  with  Eunice  folded  in  a 
ragged  plaid,  prepared  to  depart.  "  I  guess,"  the 
child  decided,  in  a  strangely  mature  voice,  "  we'd 
better  take  my  medicine."  She  turned  toward  a 
mantel,  Mrs.  Needles  made  a  quick  movement  in  the 
same  direction,  but  the  small  shape  was  before  her. 
Jasper  Penny  took  a  bottle  from  the  diminutive,  cold 
hand.  The  label  had  been  obliterated ;  but,  impelled 
by  a  distrustful  curiosity,  he  took  out  the  cork. 

Laudanum ! 

He  was  at  the  point  of  an  indignant  condemna- 
tion when  the  words  perished  without  utterance  — 
not  the  haggard  woman  before  him,  but  himself, 
Jasper  Penny,  was  entirely  guilty.  He,  in  reality, 
had  given  the  drug  to  his  daughter,  placed  her  in 
this  sorry  and  bitter  poverty.  "  Come,  Eunice,"  he 
said,  taking  her  by  the  hand,  his  face  grey  and 
stony. 

Once  more  in  the  city  he  walked  with  the  child  to 
the  ferry  and  foot  of  Chestnut  Street,  where  they 
found  places  in  The  Reaper,  a  stage  brightly  painted 
with  snowy  ships  and  drawn  by  four  sorrel  horses. 
His  first  concern  was  to  purchase  proper  clothes  for 

171 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


his  daughter ;  then  he  would  face  the  problem  of  her 
happier  disposal.  They  passed  the  columned  fa9ade 
of  the  Philadelphia  Bank,  the  Custom  House  with 
its  wide  steps  set  back  from  the  street,  hedged  dwell- 
ings, and  the  United  States  Hotel  to  Independence 
Square  and  Sixth  Street,  where  he  lifted  the  child 
from  the  stage.  They  stopped  before  an  entrance 
between  bowed  windows  which  had  above  it  the  sign, 
The  Misses  Dunlop,  Millinery. 

Jasper  Penny  had  had  no  idea  that  it  would  be 
so  difficult  to  procure  clothes  for  a  girl  of  seven.  At 
first  he  was  told  that  the  necessary  garments  could 
not  be  furnished,  when  discussion  revealed  the  fact 
that  a  nearly  complete,  diminutive  wardrobe,  espe- 
cially ordered  from  Paris  and  neglected  by  the  cus- 
tomer, was  to  be  had.  In  a  surprisingly  short  while 
a  sentimental  saleswoman  had  apparelled  Eunice  in 
black  velvet  with  rows  of  small  bows  and  gold 
buckles  and  a  lace  collar,  cambric  pantaloon  ruffles 
swinging  about  her  ankles,  a  quilted  pink  satin  bon- 
net tied,  like  those  of  her  elders',  with  a  bow  under 
her  right  cheek,  and  a  muff  and  tippet  of  ermine. 
Other  articles  —  a  frock  of  rose  gros  de  chine,  with 
a  flounced  skirt,  a  drab  velvet  bonnet  turned  in  green 
smocked  silk,  and  sheer  underthings  —  he  ordered 
delivered  at  Sanderson's  Hotel. 

The  effect  of  what  laudanum  Eunice  had  taken 

faded,  and  her  lethargy  was  replaced  by  an  equally 

still,  incredulous  amazement.     She  followed  Jasper 

Penny  about  with  the  mechanical  rigidity  of  a  minute 

172 


THE  FORGE 


sleepwalker.  Thej  went  into  a  jewelry  store  be- 
yond, with  a  square  low  bow  window  and  white  trim- 
mi.ig,  where  he  purchased  a  ring  with  a  ruby,  and 
small  gold  bracelets  with  locks  and  chains.  His 
resvless  desire  was  to  clothe  Eunice  in  money,  to 
overwhelm  her  with  gifts;  yet,  although  an  evident 
delight  struggled  through  her  stupefaction,  he  failed 
to  get  from  the  expenditure  the  release  he  sought. 
A  leaden  sense  of  blood  guiltiness  persisted  in  him. 
At  Parkinson's,  the  confectioner  opposite  the  State 
House,  he  bought  her  syllabubs,  a  frozen  rose  cordial 
and  black  cake.  On  leaving,  he  paused  at  the  mar- 
ble steps  with  a  lantern  on  either  side  and  awning 
drawn  out  over  the  pavement,  considering  the  next 
move.  It  should  be  toys  —  a  German  doll,  slate  and 
coloured  crayons  and  jumping  figures.  Then  he 
took  her  back  to  his  rooms  at  the  Hotel. 

Sitting  in  a  stiff  crimson  chair  opposite  him,  the 
doll  clasped  in  straining  fingers,  and  a  flush  of  ex- 
citement on  her  sharp  features,  she  presented  an 
enormous  difficulty.  What,  justly,  was  he  to  do 
with  her?  How  could  he  provide  for  a  reasonable 
happiness,  a  healthy,  normal  existence?  He  de- 
cided coldly  that  he  would  prevent  Essie  Scofield's 
influence  from  ever  touching  the  child  again.  Essie, 
he  knew,  was  utterly  without  any  warmth  of  mother- 
hood. She  had  solely  and  callously  used  their 
daughter  to  extort  money  from  him.  But,  he  ad- 
mitted to  himself,  neither  had  he  any  feeling  of  par- 
entage for  the  small,  lonely  figure  before  him; 

178 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


nothing  but  a  burning  self-accusation,  a  lacerated 
pride.  His  act  proceeded  entirely  from  his  head  in 
place  of  his  heart.  For  that  very  reason,  Jasper 
Penny  thought,  he  could  give  his  daughter  a  greater 
measure  of  security.  He  would  see  Stephen  Jannan 
to-morrow  and  with  the  lawyer's  assistance  get  com- 
plete control  of  Eunice's  future.  He  must  alter  his 
will. 

None  of  this,  however,  assisted  in  solving  the 
actual  immediate  necessity.  There  was,  certainly, 
Myrtle  Forge ;  his  mother,  however  she  might  silently 
suffer,  protest,  would  ultimately  accede  in  his  wishes. 
But  it  was  a  dreary  place  for  a  child,  with  only  the 
companionship  of  old  women.  He  was,  for  the 
greater  part,  away  in  the  interest  of  his  widely  scat- 
tered activities,  forges,  furnaces,  nail  factories  and 
rolling  mills. 

He  felt  in  anticipation  the  censure  of  the  Penny 
connections  that  would  rise  like  a  wall  and  shut 
Eunice  from  the  companionship  of  the  other  chil- 
dren of  the  family,  embittering  her  at  what  he  had 
somewhere  heard  described  as  the  formative  period  of 
growth.  His  home,  he  decided,  for  the  present  at 
least,  was  an  undesirable  place  for  his  daughter. 

It  was,  he  discovered,  past  two,  and  he  remorse- 
fully summoned  a  servant.  He  gazed  with  bewilder- 
ment at  the  list  of  dinner  dishes  tended  him ;  bear's 
meat,  he  felt,  canvas  back  duck  or  terrapin,  was  not 
a  diet  proper  to  seven ;  but  he  solved  the  perplexity 
by  ordering  snipe,  rolled  and  sugared  cakes  filled 
174 


THE  FORGE 


with  whipped  cream  and  preserved  strawberries,  and 
a  deep  apple  pandowdy.  After  this,  and  a  block  of 
nougat,  Eunice  discovered  herself  to  be  sleepy.  As 
she  lay  with  tossed  arms  and  pale  streaming  hair 
under  the  feather  coverlet  of  a  great  hotel  bed  he 
saw  with  a  sharp  uneasiness  that,  in  a  subtle  but  un- 
mistakable accent,  she  resembled  her  mother,  Essie 
Scofield, 


175 


XIII 

HIS  thoughts  darkened  with  the  falling  daj ; 
he  supposed  them  to  be  solely  addressed  to 
the  problem  of  Eunice ;  but,  in  reality,  they 
constantly  evaded  his  will,  following  countless 
trivialities,  and  returned  to  his  own,  peculiar  need. 
He  made  some  small  changes  of  dress  for  the  eve- 
ning, replacing  brown  with  glazed  black  boots,  and 
struggled,  with  one  hand,  through  the  ordeal  of  tying 
a  formal  neckcloth.  He  had  purposely  left  behind 
his  negro  servant  as  a  possible  source  of  unguarded 
chatter.  When  Jasper  Penny  had  finished  he  went 
in  to  Eunice  and  found  her  awake.  The  new  clothes 
lay  in  their  open  boxes;  and,  lighting  candles,  he 
wondered  if  he  had  better  have  some  one  in  to  assist 
her.  "  Can  you  fix  yourself  up  in  these  ?  "  he  asked, 
indicating  the  purchases. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  assured  him  gravely ;  "  that  is  ex- 
cept the  very  backest  buttons."  She  stood  by  the 
folded  piles  of  shirred  muslin,  the  elaborate  velvets 
and  silks  and  ribbons,  obviously  at  a  loss  before  such 
an  unparalleled  choice;  and  he  was  once  more  dis- 
turbed by  the  attenuation  of  her  small  body.  But 
that  could  be  soon  remedied ;  she  had  suffered  other, 
far  greater,  irremedial,  oppressions;  her  very  birth 
176 


THE  FORGE 


had  confronted  her,  in  the  puritanical  self-righteous- 
ness of  his  world,  with  an  almost  insuperable  barrier 
to  happiness.  Still  back  of  that,  even  before  the 
birth  of  himself  and  Essie  Scofield,  back,  back  in  the 
unguessed  past,  Eunice  had  been  shaped,  condemned. 
Her  fate  had  only  culminated  in  his  own  unbalanced 
passion,  in  a  desire  that  had  blinded  him  like  a 
flash  of  ignited  powder,  leaving  him  with  a  sense  of 
utter  void,  of  inexplicable  need.  "For  what?"  he 
demanded  unconsciously  and  bitterly  aloud. 

Eunice,  startled,  dropped  the  garment  in  her 
hands.  She  gazed  at  him  with  a  shrinking  dread. 
"  Come,'*  he  told  her  gently,  "  that  will  be  very 
pretty ;  and,  don't  you  think,  the  velvet  bonnet  with 
green  ?  "  After  supper  he  questioned  her.  "  What 
time  do  you  usually  go  to  bed  ? "  She  answered 
promptly,  "  When  it  got  too  cold  to  stay  up,  at  Mr. 
Needles',  but  I  wouldn't  know  here." 

"  We  might  go  to  the  Circus,"  he  suggested,  half 
doubtful  of  the  propriety  of  such  a  course.  How- 
ever, they  went.  She  clung  tightly  to  his  sleeve  be- 
fore the  illuminated,  high-pillared  facade  of  Welches' 
Circus,  where  Jasper  took  seats  in  a  box.  Eunice 
was  breathless  before  the  gleaming  white  and  gold 
of  the  interior,  the  fabulous,  glittering  chandelier, 
the  crimson  draperies  and  great  curtain  with  its 
equestrienne  on  a  curvetting  steed.  The  orchestra, 
with  a  blare  of  trombones,  announced  the  raising  of 
the  curtain  and  appearance  of  Mr.  John  Mays,  the 
celebrated  clown.  He  was  followed  by  Chinese 

177 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


sports,  the  Vision  of  Cupid  and  Zephyr,  and  the 
songs,  the  programme  stated,  of  Lowrie  and  Wil- 
liams. These  gentlemen,  in  superb  yellow  satin,  em- 
phasized harmoniously  the  fact  that 

"And  joy  is  but  a  flower, 
The  heart  with  sorrow  meeting 
Will  wither  'neath  its  power." 

Jasper  Penny  wondered  abstractedly  what  was 
to  be  done  with  the  tense,  excitable  child  at  his  side? 
A  voice  from  the  wings  announced :  "  Mouse  and 
Harebell,  the  Lilliputian  ponies,  with  Infant  Jockies, 
the  smallest  schooled  racers  in  existence."  And  the 
word  "  schooled  "  recalled  to  him  the  diffident  woman 
he  had  met  at  Stephen  Jannan's,  the  night  before. 
Miss  .  .  .  Brundon.  A  place  for  the  education  of 
younger  girls.  He  could  send  Eunice  there,  for  the 
present  at  any  rate ;  and  decide  later  upon  her  ulti- 
mate situation.  Miss  Brundon  had  a  sensitive,  yes, 
distinctly,  a  fine  face.  Her  school,  he  remembered, 
was  at  Raspberry  Alley,  far  out  Spruce  Street,  close 
to  Tenth.  He  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief  at  this 
bridging  of  the  immediate  complications  the  child 
presented. 

The  next  morning,  again  in  the  Reaper  coach, 
they  rolled  west  over  Chestnut  Street,  past  a  theatre 
with  elevated  statues  of  Comedy  and  Tragedy,  the 
Arcade  with  its  outside  stairs  mounting  across  the 
front,  stone  mansions  set  back  in  gardens  with  grav- 
elled paths,  and  the  Moorish  bulk  of  Masonic  Hall 
178 


THE  FORGE 


half  hid  by  stores.  Beyond  the  Circus  they  pro- 
ceeded on  foot  to  a  four  square  brick  dwelling  with 
weeping  willows  and  an  arched  wood  sign  above  the 
entrance  painted  with  the  designation,  "  Miss  Brun- 
don's  Select  Academy." 

Jasper  Penny  found  Miss  Brundon  in  a  small, 
bare,  immaculate  office.  She  was  sitting  at  a  table ; 
and,  as  he  entered,  with  Eunice  dragging  desperately 
at  his  hand,  she  half  rose,  with  a  quick,  faint  blush. 

"  Mr.  Penny,"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  low,  charming 
surprise.  "  I  didn't  expect,  so  soon,  to  have  the 
pleasure  .  .  .  here,  at  my  school."  He  firmly 
moved  Eunice  from  her  position  at  his  back.  "  An 
unexpected  pleasure  for  me,"  he  replied.  "  I  came 
to  consult  With  you  about  this  little  girl  —  the 
daughter  of  a  friend  of  mine.  A  friend,  I  may  add, 
in  difficult  circumstances,  and  for  whom  I  am  pre- 
pared to  do  a  great  deal.  I  had  hoped  —  Stephen 
Jannan  told  me  about  your  exceptional  establish- 
ment —  that  you  could  take  her.  She  needs  just 
the  supervision  that  I  am  certain  you  offer." 

"  Of  course,"  she  replied  immediately,  "  I'd  be  glad 
to  have  any  one  recommended  by  you.  I  do  think 
my  school  is  unusual.  You  see,  there  is  almost  no 
provision  for  the  supervision  of  such  young  ladies. 
And  I  have  been  very  fortunate  in  my  girls ;  I  try 
not  to  be  snobbish,  Mr.  Penny ;  but,  indeed,  if  a  place 
like  this  is  to  be  useful,  some  care  is  required.  Prob- 
ably you  would  like  an  assurance  of  their  studies  and 
deportment." 

179 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


"  No,"  he  stopped  her  hastily ;  "  it  is  quite  enough 
to  have  seen  you."  A  deeper,  painful  colour  suffused 
her  cheeks.  He  had,  he  thought,  been  inexcusably 
clumsy.  He  had  unconsciously  given  voice  to  the 
conviction  that  Miss  Brundon,  like  her  establishment, 
was  exceptional.  She  was,  ordinarily^  too  pale  for 
beauty ;  her  countenance,  with  high  cheek  bones,  was 
irregular;  yet  her  eyes,  tranquil  blue,  held  a  steady 
quality  almost  the  radiance  of  an  inward  light.  Her 
diffidence,  it  was  clear,  co-existed  with  a  firm,  invio- 
lable spirit.  He  said,  later: 

"  You  will  discover  that  there  are  many  things 
Eunice  requires,  and  I  would  be  obliged  if  you  would 
procure  them  without  stint,  and  send  the  accounts 
to  my  Philadelphia  office.  The  child  has  been  in 
circumstances  of  considerable  poverty;  but  I  wish 
to  give  her  whatever  advantages  money  can  bring. 
Yes  —  Eunice  Scofield.  And  — "  he  hesitated,  "  in 
view  of  this  .  .  ." 

"  I  understand,  oh,  completely,"  Susan  Brundon 
interrupted  him  warmly.  "  You  don't  wish  your 
charity  exposed ;  and  not  only  on  your  own  account, 
but  from  consideration  for  the  susceptibilities  of  the 
parents,  parent  —  a  mother,  I  gather." 

It  had  been,  he  thought,  leaving,  ridiculously 
simple.  His  meeting  with  Miss  Brundon  was  a  for- 
tunate chance.  A  fine,  delicate,  unworldly  woman; 
a  fineness  different  from  Phebe's,  submerged  in 
the  pursuit  of  her  own  salvation.  The  former,  he 
realized,  was  close  to  forty.  If  she  had  been  sym- 
180 


THE  FORGE 


pathetic  with  a  strange  child  such  as  Eunice  how 
admirably  she  would  attend  any  of  her  own.  Un- 
married. The  blindness  of  men,  their  fatuous 
choice,  suddenly  surprised  him. 

He  determined  to  proceed  directly  to  Stephen 
Jannan,  and  put  into  motion  at  once  the  solving  of 
his  daughter's  future.  Never,  he  repeated,  should 
Eunice  fall  again  into  the  lax  hands  of  Essie  Scofield. 
Stephen  would  advise  him  shrewdly,  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  law,  or  skilfully  overcoming  its  obstacles. 
He  had  unbounded  faith  in  the  power  of  money  where 
Essie  was  concerned;  at  the  same  time  he  had  no 
intention  of  laying  himself  open  to  endless  extortion, 
threats,  almost  inevitable,  ultimate  scandal.  What 
a  bog  he  had  strayed  into,  a  quagmire  reaching  about 
him  in  every  direction.  He  must  discover  firmer 
ground  ahead,  release  from  the  act  of  that  other 
man,  his  youth.  The  memory  of  the  serene  purity 
of  Miss  Brundon's  office  recurred  to  him  like  a  breath 
from  the  open  spaces  where  he  had  first  known  the 
deep  pleasure  of  an  utter  freedom  of  spirit. 

Jasper  Penny,  revolving  the  complications  of  his 
position,  made  his  way  directly  over  the  uneven  side- 
walk of  Spruce  Street  to  Fourth ;  there,  passing  the 
high,  narrow  residences  of  Society  Hill,  he  proceeded 
to  Stephen's  office,  beyond  Chestnut.  It  was  in  a 
square  brick  edifice  of  an  earlier  period,  with  a 
broad  marble  step  and  door  and  wide  windows  coped 
in  scoured  white  stone.  The  lawyer's  private  cham- 
ber was  bare,  with  snowy  panelling  and  mahogany, 

181 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


the  high  sombre  shelves  of  a  calf-bound  law  library, 
a  ponderous  cabriolet  table,  sturdy,  rush-seated 
Dutch  chairs,  and  a  Franklin  stove  with  slender 
brass  capitols  and  shining  hod. 

"  A  chair,  Jasper,"  Stephen  Jannan  directed. 
"  You  ought  to  know  them,  they  came  out  of  Myrtle 
Forge  —  some  of  old  Gilbert's.  Your  mother  gave 
them  to  me  when  she  did  over  the  house  in  this  new 
French  fancy."  Jasper  Penny  was  momentarily  at 
a  loss  for  an  adequate  opening  of  the  subject  that 
had  brought  him  there.  Finally  he  plunged  directly 
into  his  purpose.  "  You  must  know,  Stephen,"  he 
said,  "  that  I  am  decidedly  obligated  to  a  Mrs. 
Scofield."  Jannan  nodded  shortly.  "  The  thing 
dragged  on  for  a  number  of  years,  but  is  quite  dead 
now;  in  fact,  it  has  been  for  a  considerable  number 
of  months.  That,  in  itself,  doesn't  bother  me;  it  is 
comparatively  simple;  but  there  is  a  child,  a  girl, 
Stephen." 

"  I  didn't  know  that,"  the  other  acknowledged. 
"  It  is  an  ugly  difficulty.  Do  you  wish  to  legiti- 
matize your  —  the  child?  There  is  marriage  of 
course." 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  marrying  Essie  Scofield," 
Jasper  Penny  said  coldly.  "  And  I  am  almost  cer- 
tain she  wouldn't  consent  if  I  had.  I  am  quite  will- 
ing to  assume  a  proper  responsibility;  but  there  is 
a  limit  to  my  conception  of  that.  There  was  never 
any  serious  question  of  marriage ;  there  is  none  now. 
182 


THE  FORGE 


I  simply  wish  to  get  complete  control  of  Eunice;  by 
adoption,  perhaps ;  she  is  seven  years  old." 

"  There  are  no  laws  of  adoption,  as  such,  in  Penn- 
sylvania," Jannan  told  him.  "  The  only  State 
with  that  provision  is  Louisiana;  there,  by  an  act 
of  Legislature,  the  thing  can  be  legalized.  I  could 
arrange  it  through  correspondence,  a  certain  resi- 
dence within  the  State.  It  would  be  cumbersome  and 
expensive,  but  possible."  He  paused,  frowning. 
"  Devilish  awkward,"  he  muttered ;  "  make  a  stench 
in  a  family  such  as  ours.  However,"  he  added,  "  a 
contract  practically  to  the  same  effect  can  be 
drawn.  This,  with  her  consent,  would  be  entirely 
binding  on  Mrs.  Scofield.  If  the  child  can  write  it 
would  be  well  to  have  her  signature  on  the  deed. 
Bring  them  here;  she  should  have  counsel." 

"  After  that,  I  suppose,  the  name  could  be  ar- 
ranged." 

"  Exactly.  The  child,  of  course,  would  have  na 
legal  status  as  your  heir.  Anything  she  got  would 
have  to  be  willed  direct."  The  other  nodded.  It 
was  all  far  more  simple  than  he  had  hoped.  He  al- 
most saw  a  definite  lightening  of  the  future.  "  Is 
the  girl  with  her  mother  now?  "  Jannan  queried. 

"  I  took  her  away  yesterday,"  Jasper  Penny  re- 
plied negligently.  "  We  went  to  the  Circus,  and  at 
present  she  is  at  Miss  Brundon's  Academy."  He 
was  surprised  by  the  sudden  concern  on  his  cousin's 
handsome,  florid  countenance.  "  By  heaven,  Jas- 

183 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 

per,"  the  lawyer  exclaimed,  "  am  I  to  understand 
that  you  took  a  —  well,  an  illegitimate  child,  to  Miss 
Brundon,  left  her  in  the  School  ?  It's  —  it's  incredi- 
ble." 

"Why  not?" 

"  If  such  a  thing  were  known  it  would  ruin  Susan 
Brundon  over  night.  Haven't  you  a  conception  of 
how  this  is  regarded?  She  would  be  stripped  of  pu- 
pils as  if  the  place  reeked  of  malignant  fever.  A 
most  beastly  egotistical  and  selfish  act." 

"  Never  thought  of  that,"  Jasper  Penny  admitted. 
He  saw  again  the  fine,  sensitive  face  of  Miss  Brun- 
don, presiding  over  the  establishment  that  was  like 
an  emanation  of  her  diffident  and  courageous  spirit ; 
the  last  person  alive  he  would  harm.  And  people 
were  exactly  as  Stephen  had  said,  particularly 
women.  They  would  destroy  Susan  Brundon  ruth- 
lessly, without  a  moment's  hesitation.  He  thought 
of  her  as  suffering  incalculably,  betrayed  by  his  im- 
plied lie ;  he  saw  her  eyes  stricken  with  pain,  her 
hands  twisting  together  .  .  .  He  rose  sharply. 

"  A  blind,  infernal  fool !  "  he  e j  aculated,  grasping 
his  hat.  "  I'm  glad  I  saw  you  when  I  did.  Put  it 
right  at  once.  Obliged,  Stephen ;  come  to  you  later 
about  changing  my  will  and  the  rest." 

He  was  in  such  haste  to  remove  the  danger  of 
Eunice  from  Susan  Brundon  that  not  until  he  again 
stood  at  the  door  of  the  Academy  did  he  realize  what 
a  difficult  explanation  lay  before  him.  Uncon- 
sciously he  had  reached  a  point  where  he  would  do 
184 


THE  FORGE 


his  utmost  to  avoid  hurting  her.  Already  she  occu- 
pied an  unusual  elevation  in  his  thoughts,  an  un- 
worldly plane  bathed  in  a  white  radiance. 

She  was  not  in  the  office,  but  soon  appeared,  with 
a  questioning  gaze ;  and,  he  felt,  an  appealing  lessen- 
ing of  her  reserve.  He  hesitated,  casting  vainly 
about  for  an  acceptable  expression  of  his  errand. 
Another  lie,  he  thought,  acutely  distressed,  must  be 
necessary.  "  I  am  extremely  sorry,  Miss  Brundon," 
he  told  her,  "  but  unexpected  developments  in  the 
last  hour  make  it  necessary  for  me  to  remove  Eunice 
from  your  school." 

A  slow  flush  invaded  her  countenance  lifted  to 
meet  his  troubled  gaze.  "  Mr.  Penny ! "  she  ex- 
claimed, in  a  faint  dismay.  "  Oh,  I  hope  it  is  be- 
cause of  nothing  —  nothing  derogatory  you  have 
heard.  Please  tell  me  directly  — " 

"  Absolutely  no,"  he  replied,  his  voice  carrying  a 
vibrating  reassurance.  "  You  are  entirely  without 
the  need  of  recommendation,  far  beyond  any  un- 
favourable report.  I  am  profoundly  disturbed  by 
causing  you  inconvenience,  and  I  only  hope  to  offer 
you  sufficient  apology ;  but  I  shall  have  to  take  Eu- 
nice away  with  me,  at  once." 

"  Perhaps  her  mother  can't  bear  separation." 

"  It  is  not  that,"  he  said  grimly,  a  tangible  hurt 
sharpening  within ;  "  but  something  that  cannot  be 
gone  into,  with  you."  She  turned  away  immedi- 
ately. "  I  will  send  for  her,"  she  replied.  They 
stood  facing  but  mutually  avoiding  each  other's  gaze 

185 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


while  Eunice  was  being  fetched.  "  Her  things  have 
already  come  from  the  hotel,"  Miss  Brundon  pro- 
ceeded. "  Where  shall  I  send  them?  "  Eunice  broke 
in  with  a  shrill  protest.  "  Do  I  have  to  go  ?  I 
don't  want  to."  Her  face  was  scarlet  with  revolt. 
"  I  can  walk  up  and  down  the  room  with  a  book  on 
my  head,  while  another  little  girl  had  to  be  all  done 
with  a  board  to  her  back." 

Jasper  Penny  wondered  if  he  would  see  Miss 
Brundon  again  soon.  The  last  was  an  after- 
thought bred  by  the  realization  that  he  could  not 
permit  her  to  depart  absolutely  from  his  life.  There 
was  a  great  deal  that  he,  a  rich  and  influential  man 
of  practical  affairs,  might  do  for  her.  He  was  cer- 
tain that  Susan  Brundon  needed  exactly  the  assist- 
ance he  could  give;  probably  people  robbed  her> 
traded  callously  on  her  unsuspicious  nature.  Yet, 
when  the  moment  came  to  leave,  he  could  think  of 
nothing  to  say  beyond  the  banality  of  looking  for 
her  at  the  Jannans'. 

"  I  go  out  very  little,"  she  told  him ;  "  the  work 
here  absorbs  me;  and,  unfortunately,  my  eyes  are 
not  strong.  They  require  constant  rest."  He  ex- 
pressed regret  once  more  for  any  disturbance  he 
might  have  caused ;  and,  after  hesitating  awkwardly, 
left  with  Eunice  hanging  fretfully  at  his  hand. 
What,  in  God's  name,  was  he  to  do  with  the  child? 
He  walked  slowly,  his  face  half  lost  in  the  fur  of  his 
overcoat,  oblivious,  in  his  concentration  on  the  diffi- 
culties of  her  situation,  of  Eunice  progressing  dis- 
186 


THE  FORGE 


contentedly  at  his  side.  A  petulant  complaint  rose 
at  intervals  to  an  audible  sob.  Looking  down,  as 
the  sobs  threatened  to  become  a  continuous  crying, 
he  saw  the  top  of  the  velvet  bonnet  and  her  diminu- 
tive hands  in  scarlet  knitted  mitts.  He  would  have 
to  stop  dragging  her  from  place  to  place ;  a  suitable 
position  for  the  present  was  all  he  hoped  for  now. 
There  must  be  other  institutions,  larger  and  farther 
away,  to  which  Eunice  could  be  sent.  He  had  a 
vague  memory  of  such  a  place  somewhere  on  the 
Delaware,  was  it  at  Burlington? 

But  he  could  not  continue  living  with  his  daughter 
at  Sanderson's  Hotel.  Jasper  Penny  decided  that 
he  would  take  her  that  afternoon  to  the  house  of  the 
head  machinist  of  his  nail  works  at  Jaffa,  the  town 
that,  its  beginning  growing  largely  out  of  the  Penny 
industries,  lay  a  scant  mile  from  Myrtle  Forge. 
Speever  was  a  superior  man ;  his  wife,  a  robust  Cor- 
nish woman  in  a  crisp  apron,  would  give  Eunice  an 
energetic  and  proper  care. 

A  thin,  flexible  mantle  of  snow  lay  over  the  drab 
earth,  sweeping  up  to  a  Grecian  marble  edifice,  mak- 
ing more  dreary  the  bulk  of  the  Eastern  Peniten- 
tiary and  foundation  of  Girard  College,  and  empha- 
sizing the  winter  desertion  of  the  reaches  of  the 
Fairmount  Water  Works.  She  soon  grew  absorbed 
in  the  various  aspects  of  their  transportation  — 
the  echo  of  the  whip  cracking  over  the  mules  that 
drew  the  coaches  across  the  covered  viaduct,  the 
labouring  stationary  engine  and  their  slow  ascent 

187 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PEN  NY  S 


beyond.  They  saw,  lining  the  river,  a  cemetery 
elevated  starkly  against  the  sky;  and  followed  a 
canal  by  a  broken,  black  flood  between  snowy  banks. 

Past  a  town  with  impressive  residences  and 
manufactories  with  low  spreading  veils  of  smoke, 
they  came  on  a  confusion  of  canals  and  canal  boats, 
lock  dams  and  bridges,  mules  and  raffish  crews 
with  tanned  faces  and  brightly  coloured  jackets 
and  boots.  Again  crossing  the  river  and  a  shal- 
low, tranquil  valley,  the  train  brigade  rolled  into  the 
main  street  of  Jaffa.  It  was  a  town  of  small  brick 
dwellings,  spaced  in  orderly  yards,  echoing  to  the 
diminished  clamour  of  the  Penny  Rolling  Mills  on 
the  outskirts.  Beyond  the  walls,  starkly  red  against 
the  snow,  the  blackened  main  street,  the  river  was 
spotted  with  ice. 

Edgar  Speever's  wife  accepted  Eunice  with  an  im- 
mediate and  unquestioning  capability,  and  Jasper 
Penny  turned  away  with  a  momentary  but  immense 
relief.  In  a  few  days,  after  the  deed  for  the  posses- 
sion of  the  child  had  been  executed,  he  could  place 
her  more  permanently.  He  walked  out  to  the  mis- 
cellaneous group  of  buildings  and  cluttered  yards 
that  held  his  inherited  activity;  and  in  the  small 
single-roomed  building  of  the  main  office  discussed 
with  his  superintendent  the  changes,  improvements 
of  process,  then  under  way.  The  old  nail  machines, 
propelled  by  the  feet  and  hands  of  an  operator,  and 
producing  but  one  nail  at  a  time,  had  been  replaced 
by  a  high  power  engine,  self-heading  machinery. 
188 


THE  FORGE 


The  superintendent  complained  of  the  pig  from 
the  new  hot  blast  furnaces.  "  Impure,"  he  declared. 
"  And  this  new  stone  coal  firing,  too,  makes  but  poor 
stuff.  It'll  never  touch  the  old  charcoal  forging. 
Hammered  bar's  at  ninety,  and  I'm  glad  to  get  it 
then.  The  puddling  furnaces  will  do  something 
with  the  grey  pig;  we  have  eight  in  blast  now,  turn- 
ing out  the  railroad  and  heavier  bars.  This  year 
will  see  forty-five  hundred  tons  of  iron  worked,  and 
close  to  four  thousand  kegs  of  nails." 

Jasper  Penny  listened  attentively ;  it  was  his  in- 
tention soon  to  dispense  entirely  with  all  the  time- 
honoured  methods  of  iron  manufacture.  Water 
power,  with  its  unequal  flow,  any  large  employment 
of  charcoal,  growing  increasingly  expensive  with  the 
rapid  diminishment  of  the  forests,  must  give  place  to 
the  steam  blast  machine  and  anthracite.  If  his 
manager  was  unable  to  change,  develop,  with  the 
changing  times  he  would  find  another,  more  scientific. 

Outside  the  early  twilight  made  more  grey  the 
dingy  sheds  and  buildings,  the  heaped  slag;  the  long 
brick  rectangle  of  the  rolling  mill,  with  its  triple 
imposed,  ventilated  roof  and  the  high,  smoking 
stacks  of  the  puddling  furnaces,  rising  four  from 
either  length,  gave  out  an  undiminished,  deafening 
uproar,  the  clamour  of  the  bars  falling  out  from  the 
rollers,  the  spatter  of  hammers  and  dull  dragging 
of  heavy  weights.  The  engine  of  the  nail  works  rent 
all  other  sound  with  an  unaccustomed,  harsh  blast. 
.  .  .  Jasper  Penny  was  conscious  of  a  deep,  invol- 

189 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


untary  relief  when  he  reaqjied  the  comparative  tran- 
quillity, the  secession  of  vexatious  problems,  accom- 
plished by  Myrtle  Forge. 


190 


XIV 

THERE  was,  as  always,  an  elaborate,  steam- 
ing supper,  with  his  mother,  in  a  pelisse  of 
black  silk  ruching,  and  Amity  Merken  at 
their  places.  He  noted  that  an  empty  chair  had 
been  put,  as  customary,  at  the  opposite  end  of 
the  table,  and  with  a  trace  of  impatience  or- 
dered its  removal.  He  wondered  momentarily  at 
his  petty  act;  and  then  his  thoughts  returned  to 
Susan  Brundon.  Jasper  Penny  saw  her  blue  gaze 
lifted  to  his  face,  the  hesitating  smile;  he  felt  again 
the  pervading  influence  of  her  delicate  yet  essen- 
tially unshrinking  spirit.  She  would  possess  an 
enormous  steadfastness  of  purpose,  he  decided;  a 
potentiality  of  immovable  self-sacrifice.  Yet  she 
was  the  gentlest  person  alive.  An  unusual  and  re- 
splendent combination  of  traits,  rare  possibilities. 

She  had  told  him  that  she  seldom  went  about  — 
her  school  absorbed  her,  and  her  eyes  needed  care, 
rest.  He  must  ask  Stephen  Jannan  further  about 
her.  They  were  sitting,  Jasper  Penny,  his  mother 
and  her  sister,  in  the  parlour ;  a  large,  square  cham- 
ber hung  with  dark  maroon  paper  and  long,  many 
tasselled  and  corniced  window  curtains  in  sombre 
green  plush.  A  white  wedgewood  mantel  with  orna- 

191 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


ments  in  olive  and  blue,  above  a  brass-fretted  closed 
stove,  supported  a  high  mirror,  against  which  were 
ranged  a  pair  of  tall  astral  lamps  shining  in  green 
and  red  spars  of  light  through  their  pendants,  a 
French  clock  —  a  crystal  ball  in  a  miniature  Ionic 
pavilion  of  gilt  —  and  artificial  bouquets  of  coloured 
wax  under  glass  domes.  A  thick  carpet  of  purplish 
black  velvet  pile  covered  the  floor  from  wall  to  wall ; 
stiff  Adam  chairs  and  settee  with  wheelbacks  of 
black  and  gold  were  upholstered  in  dusky  ruby  and 
indigo.  Ebony  tables  of  framed,  inlaid  onyx  held 
tortoise  shell  and  lacquer  ornaments,  an  inlaid  tulip- 
wood  music-box,  volumes  in  elaborately  tooled  mo- 
rocco, and  a  globe  where,  apparently,  metallic  fish 
were  suspended  in  a  translucent,  green  gloom. 

The  light  from  the  multiple  candelabras  of  ormolu 
and  cut  lustres  streamed  from  the  walls  over  Jasper 
Penny,  sunk  forward  in  profound  absorption,  and 
his  mother's  busy,  fat  hands  working  with  gay 
worsteds.  At  her  side  a  low  stand  of  rubbed  Chinese 
vermilion  held  her  spilling  yarns.  Her  face  was 
placid,  dryly  pinkish  and  full.  An  irreproachable, 
domestic  female.  Herself  the  daughter  of  a  success- 
ful Pennsylvania  German  Ironmaster,  her  wealth 
had  doubled  the  Penny  successes.  There  had  been 
other  children;  Jasper  could  only  faintly  remember 
two,  mostly  in  the  form  of  infantile  whimpering. 

The  inevitable  termination  of  the  evening  was 
reached  by  the  appearance  of  a  pitcher  of  steaming, 
spiced  mulled  wine.  A  cupful  was  formally  pre- 
192 


THE  FORGE 


sented  to  Amity  Merken ;  Gilda  Penny  sipped  hers 
with  an  audible  satisfaction,  and  Jasper  Penny 
absently  drank  the  fragrant  compound  of  cinnamon 
bark  and  lemon,  cloves,  sugar  and  claret.  A  meas- 
ure of  that,  before  retiring,  could  not  but  be  bene- 
ficial to  Susan  Brundon,  fatigued  by  the  duties  of 
her  Academy.  He  thought  of  the  sharper  breath 
of  the  brandy  and  oranges  compounded  by  Essie 
Scofield.  A  thin  odour  of  foxglove  clung  to  the 
memory  of  his  wife. 


199 


XV 

JASPER  PENNY  supplemented  Jannan's  letter 
to  Essie  Scofield,  asking  for  an  appointment 
with  his  client  at  the  law  office,  with  a  short 
communication  laying  before  her  the  condition  in 
which  he  had  found  Eunice,  his  knowledge  of  her 
neglect  to  provide  their  daughter  with  the  funds  he 
had  sent  for  that  purpose,  and  definite  plans  for  his 
complete  control  of  the  child.  At  the  despatch  of 
this  he  felt  that  his  duty,  where  Essie  as  a  formal 
parent  resided,  was  ended.  It  was  now  only  a  ques- 
tion of  an  agreement  on  terms.  He  got  no  reply, 
other  than  a  notification  from  Stephen  Jannan  that 
a  meeting  had  been  arranged  for  the  following  week. 
And,  at  eleven  o'clock,  on  a  clear,  thin  blue  winter 
morning,  he  mounted,  with  Eunice,  to  the  entrance 
of  Jannan's  offices  on  Fourth  Street. 

Essie  Scofield,  in  widespread  mulberry  silk  with 
tight  sleeves  and  broad  steel  buttons,  a  close 
brimmed  blue  bonnet  filled  with  lilacs  and  tied  with 
an  old  rose  ribbon,  was  more  compelling  than  Jasper 
Penny  had  remembered  her  for,  actually,  years.  A 
coffee-coloured  India  shawl,  with  a  deep  fringe  and 
trace  of  a  lining  checkered  in  cherry  and  black  slip- 
194 


THE  FORGE 


ping  from  her  shoulders,  toned  her  appearance  to  a 
potential  dignity. 

"  Eunice,"  she  exclaimed,  as  the  child  entered, 
"  do  come  here  at  my  side ! "  A  small,  cold  mouth 
was  silently  raised  for  a  straining  embrace.  Ste- 
phen Jannan  proceeded  at  once,  addressing  Essie 
Scofield.  "  Mr.  Penny  informs  me  that  he  has  writ- 
ten you  explaining  our  purpose.  I  have  already 
instructed  you  of  the  law  in  such  a  connexion,  and 
there  remains  only  your  signatures  to  these  papers. 
I  begged  you,  if  you  will  remember,  to  come  with 
counsel,  but  since  you  have  not  done  that  it  will  be 
best  for  you  to  read  this  deed,  which  is  quite  clear 
in  its  intent." 

Essie  gazed  dramatically  at  the  paper  the  lawyer 
tended  her.  "  It  means,"  she  said,  "  that  I  am  to 
lose  Eunice,  and  because  I  cannot  offer  her  any 
advantages  beyond  those  of  a  slim  purse.  I  am  a 
most  unfortunate  creature."  Jasper  Penny  scraped 
his  chair  back  impatiently,  but  Stephen  enforced  his 
silence  with  a  gesture.  "  While  my  client  under- 
stands that  no  monetary  consideration  can  compen- 
sate for  the  breaking  of  ties  of  affection,"  Stephen 
Jannan  went  on  smoothly,  "  and  while  he  offers  none 
in  payment  to  that  end,  still  we  feel  that  some  ma- 
terial recognition  should  be  due  you.  Have  you 
anything  to  say,  suggest,  at  this  point?  " 

Essie  Scofield's  arm  was  about  Eunice's  waist. 
"  I  am  to  be  parted  from  my  little  daughter,"  she 
exclaimed ;  "  and  my  tears  are  to  be  stopped  with 

195 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


gold  —  an  affectionate  breast,  a  heart-wrung  ap- 
peal, stilled  by  a  bribe.  That  is  the  price  paid  by  a 
trusting,  an  unsuspicious,  female.  Long  ago,  when 
a  mere  girl,  dazzled  by  — " 

"  We  won't  go  into  that,"  Jannan  interrupted, 
"  but  confine  ourselves  to  the  immediate  development. 
By  signing  the  paper  in  question,  and  accepting  a 
sum  of  money,  you  surrender  all  claim  to  this  child, 
known  as  Eunice  Scofield." 

"  How  will  that  affect  my  —  my  position  in  other 
ways?  "  she  demanded,  in  a  suddenly  shrewd,  suspi- 
cious tone.  "  Not  at  all,"  the  lawyer  assured  her. 
She  sobbed  once,  emotionally;  and  Eunice  regarded 
her  with  a  wide,  unsparing  curiosity.  "  A  stranger 
to  me,"  she  gasped,  with  a  paper  white  face  and  flut- 
tering eyelids.  Jasper  Penny  ejaculated  sharply, 
"How  much,  Essie?"  In  a  moment,  he  judged, 
familiar  with  a  potential  hysteria,  she  might  faint, 
scream ;  there  were  clerks,  people,  in  the  next  rooms. 
On  the  brink  of  collapse  she  hesitated,  twisting  her 
purple  kid  gloves. 

"  Ten  thousand  dollars,"  she  said. 

Stephen  Jannan  glanced  swiftly  at  his  cousin,  and 
the  latter  nodded.  "  That  is  satisfactory,"  Jan- 
nan announced.  "  A  mere  formality  —  witnesses." 
Essie  Scofield  traced  her  signature  in  round,  un- 
formed characters ;  Jasper  Penny  followed  with  a 
hasty,  small  script;  and  Eunice,  seated  at  the  im- 
pressive table,  printed  her  name  slowly,  blotting  it 
196 


THE  FORGE 


with  a  trailing  sleeve.  The  lawyer  swung  back  the 
door  of  a  heavy  safe,  and  took  out  a  package  of 
white  bills  of  exchange  on  the  Bank  of  Pennsylvania. 
Essie  counted  the  notes  independently,  thrust  the 
money  into  a  steel-beaded  reticule  with  silk  cords, 
and  rose,  gathering  together  her  cashmere  shawl. 
She  ignored  Eunice  totally  in  the  veiled  gaze  she 
directed  at  Jasper  Penny.  "  It  is  better,"  she  told 
him,  "  if  you  write  first  when  you  expect  to  visit 
me.  Really,  the  last  time,  with  some  friends  there, 
you  were  impossible."  He  bowed  stiffly.  "  Don't 
let  a  sense  of  duty  bring  you,"  she  concluded  boldly. 
"  I  get  on  surprisingly  well  as  it  is,  as  it  is,"  she 
reiterated,  and,  he  thought,  her  voice  bore  almost  a 
threat. 

When  she  had  gone  the  two  men  sat  gazing  in  a 
common  perplexity  at  the  child.  Stephen  Jannan's 
lips  were  compressed,  Jasper  Penny's  face  was 
slightly  drawn  as  if  by  pain.  Eunice  was  investi- 
gating a  thick  stick  of  vermilion  sealing  wax  and  a 
steel  die.  "  Well  ?  "  Jannan  queried,  nodding  to- 
ward the  table.  "  I  thought  something  of  Burling- 
ton," Penny  replied,  "  but  decided  to  place  her  in 
New  York.  Want  to  give  her  all  the  chance  possi- 
ble. I  intend,  at  what  seems  the  proper  time,  to 
secure  her  my  own  name."  He  stopped  the  objec- 
tion clouding  his  cousin's  countenance.  "  We  won't 
argue  that,  please.  Now  about  the  will ;  the  pro- 
vision must  be  explicit  and  generous.  There,  at 

197 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

least,  I  am  able  to  meet  a  just  requirement."  Jas- 
per Penny's  will  was  produced,  a  codicil  projected, 
appended,  and  witnesses  recalled. 

"  I  wanted  to  inquire  about  Miss  Brundon,"  Jas- 
per said  finally,  the  business  despatched.  "  She 
seems  to  me  very  fragile  for  the  conducting  of 
an  Academy.  Is  there  no  family,  men,  to  support 
her?  And  her  institution  —  does  it  continue  to 
progress  well  ?  " 

"  Very."  Jannan  replied  to  the  last  question  first. 
"  Her  children  come  from  the  best  families  in  the 
city ;  and,  under  my  advice,  her  charges  are  high. 
She  has  a  brother,  I  believe,  a  cotton  merchant  of 
New  Orleans,  and  quite  prosperous.  But  he  has  a 
large  family,  and  Susan  will  not  permit  him  to  de- 
prive it  of  a  dollar  for  her  benefit.  As  you  say,  she 
is  not  strong ;  but  in  spite  of  that  she  needs  no  man's 
patronage.  The  finest  qualities,  Jasper,  the  most 
elevated  spirit.  A  little  too  conscientious,  perhaps; 
and,  although  she  is  thirty-nine,  curiously  ignorant 
of  the  world;  but  rare  .  .  .  rare.  It  almost  seems 
as  if  there  were  a  conspiracy  to  keep  ugly  truths 
away  from  her." 

Truths,  Jasper  Penny  thought  bitterly,  such  as 
had  just  been  revealed  in  Stephen's  office.  There 
was,  it  seemed,  nothing  he  could  do  for  Susan  Brun- 
don. He  envied  the  lawyer  his  position  of  familiar 
adviser,  the  ease  with  which  the  other  spoke  her 
name:  Susan.  He  rose,  fumbling  with  a  jade  seal. 
"  Come,  Eunice,"  he  said,  the  lines  deepening  about 
198 


THE  FORGE 


his  mouth  and  eyes.  Stephen  Jannan  assisted  him 
into  the  heavy,  furred  coat.  "  Well,  Jasper,"  he 
remarked  sympathetically,  "  if  we  could  but  look 
ahead,  if  we  were  older  in  our  youth,  yes,  and 
younger  in  our  increasing  age,  the  world  would  be  a 
different  place."  He  held  out  to  Eunice  a  newly 
minted  Brazilian  goldpiece.  "  Good-bye,"  he  ad- 
dressed her ;  "  command  me  if  I  can  be  of  any  use." 
She  clutched  the  gold  tightly,  and  Jasper  Penny 
led  her  out  into  the  winter  street.  "  We  must  have 
dinner,"  he  said  gravely.  "  With  some  yellow  rock 
candy,"  she  added,  "  and  syllabubs." 


199 


XVI 

HE  returned  to  Myrtle  Forge  from  New  York 
with  a  mingled  sense  of  pleasure  and  the 
feeling  that  his  place  was  unsupportably 
empty.  The  loneliness  of  which  he  had  been  increas- 
ingly conscious  seemed  to  have  its  focus  in  his  house. 
The  following  morning  he  walked  restlessly  down  the 
short,  steep  descent  to  the  Forge,  lying  on  its  swift 
water  diverted  from  Canary  Creek.  Unlike  a  great 
many  iron  families  of  increasing  prosperity,  the 
Pennys  had  not  erected  the  unsightly  buildings  of 
their  manufacturing  about  the  scene  of  their  initial 
activity  and  mansion.  Jasper's  father,  Daniel 
Barnes  Penny,  under  whose  hand  their  success  had 
largely  multiplied,  had  grouped  their  first  rolling  mill 
and  small  nail  works  by  the  canal  at  Jaffa,  preserv- 
ing the  pastoral  aspect  of  Myrtle  Forge,  with  its 
farmland  and  small,  ancient,  stone  buildings. 

Jasper  had  only  made  some  unimportant  changes 
at  the  Forge  itself  —  the  pigs  were  subjected  to  the 
working  of  two  hearths  now,  the  chafery,  where  the 
greater  part  of  the  sulphur  was  burned  out,  and  the 
finery.  The  old  system  of  bellows  had  been  replaced 
by  a  wood  cylinder,  compressing  air  by  piston  into 
a  chamber  from  which  the  blast  was  regulated.  A 
200 


THE  FORGE 


blacksmith's  shed  had  been  added  in  the  course  of 
time,  and  a  brick  coke  oven.  He  stopped  at  the 
Forge  shed,  filled  with  ruddy  light  and  shadow,  the 
ringing  of  hammers,  and  silently  watched  the  malle- 
able metal  on  the  anvil.  Flakes  of  glowing  iron 
fell,  changing  from  ruby  to  blue  and  black. 

The  Penny  iron!  The  Forge  had  been  operated 
continuously  since  seventeen  twenty-seven,  hammer- 
ing out  the  foundation  of  his,  Jasper's,  position. 
He  had  taken  a  not  inconsiderable  place  in  the  suc- 
cession of  the  men  of  his  family ;  in  him  the  Pennys 
had  reached  their  greatest  importance,  wealth.  But 
after  him  .  .  .  what?  He  was,  now,  the  last  Penny 
man.  The  foothold  Gilbert  had  cut  out  of  the 
wild,  which  Howat  and  Casimir  —  an  outlandish 
name  obviously  traceable  to  his  mother,  the  foreign 
widow  —  had,  in  turn,  increased  for  Daniel  and  Jas- 
per, would  be  dissipated.  His  great,  great  aunt, 
Caroline,  marrying  a  solid  Quaker,  had  contributed, 
too,  to  the  family  stamina;  while  her  granddaugh- 
ter, wedding  a  Jannan,  had  increased  the  social  pres- 
tige and  connections  of  the  family.  The  Jannans, 
bankers  and  lawyers,  had  already  converted  the 
greater  part  of  their  iron  inheritance  into  more 
speculative  finance;  and  the  burden  of  the  industry 
rested  on  Jasper  Penny's  shoulders. 

At  his  death  the  name,  the  long  and  faithful 
labour,  the  tangible  monument  of  their  endurance 
and  rectitude,  except  for  the  tenuous,  momentary 
fact  of  Eunice,  would  be  overthrown,  forgot.  He 

201 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


was  conscious  of  a  strong  inner  protest  against  such 
oblivion.  He  had,  of  course,  often  before  lamented 
the  fact  that  he  had  no  son;  but  suddenly  his  loss 
became  a  hundred  times  more  poignant,  regrettable. 
Jasper  Penny  caught  again  the  remembered,  op- 
pressive odour  of  foxglove,  the  aromatic  reek  of 
brandy  and  oranges ;  one,  in  its  implications,  as  ster- 
ile as  the  other.  He  was  possessed  by  an  overwhelm- 
ing sense  of  essential  failure,  a  recurrence  of  the  dark 
mood  that  had  enveloped  him  in  leaving  the  Jannans* 
ball. 

Yet,  he  thought  again,  he  was  still  in  the  midstride 
of  his  life,  his  powers.  His  health  was  unimpaired ; 
his  presence  bore  none  of  the  slackening  aspect  of 
increasing  years.  These  feelings  occupied  him, 
speeding  in  a  single  cutter  sleigh  over  the  crisp  snow 
of  the  road  leading  from  his  home  to  Shadrach  Fur- 
nace, where  Graham  Jannan  and  his  young  wife  had 
been  newly  installed  in  the  foremens5  dwelling. 
There  was  a  slight  uneasiness  about  Graham's  lungs, 
in  consequence  of  which  he  had  been  taken  out  of  the 
banking  house  of  an  uncle,  Jannan  and  Provost,  and 
set  at  the  more  robust  task  of  picking  up  the  man- 
agement of  an  iron  furnace. 

It  was  early  afternoon ;  the  sky  was  as  dryly  pow- 
dered with  unbroken  blue  as  was  the  earth  with  white. 
The  silver  bells  and  scarlet  pompons  of  the  harness 
crackled  in  the  still,  intense  cold ;  and  a  blanched 
vapour  hung  about  the  horse's  head.  Jasper  Penny, 
202 


THE  FORGE 


enveloped  in  voluminous  buffalo  robes  and  fur,  gazed 
with  an  increased  interest  at  the  familiar,  flowing 
scene;  nearby  the  forest  had  been  cut,  and  suave, 
rolling  fields  stretched  to  a  far  mauve  haze  of  trees ; 
the  ultramarine  smoke  of  farmhouse  chimneys  every- 
where climbed  into  the  pale  wash  of  sunlight ;  orderly 
fence  succeeded  fence.  How  rapidly,  and  prosper- 
ous, the  country  was  growing!  Even  he  could  re- 
member wide  reaches  of  wild  that  were  now  culti- 
vated. The  game,  quail  and  wild  turkey  and  deer, 
was  fast  disappearing.  The  country  was  growing 
amazingly,  too,  extending  through  the  Louisiana 
Purchase,  State  by  State,  to  Mexico  and  the  Texan 
border.  The  era  of  the  greatness  of  the  United 
States  had  hardly  begun,  while  it  was  more  than 
probable  that  the  greatness,  the  power,  of  the  Penny 
family  faced  an  imminent  destruction.  His  revolt 
at  this,  joining  the  more  personal  sense  of  the  empti- 
ness of  his  existence,  filled  him  with  a  bitter  energy, 
a  determination  to  conquer,  somehow,  the  obdurate 
facts  hemming  him  in. 

The  sleigh  dropped  over  a  rise  into  a  shallow  fold 
of  hills,  with  a  collection  of  structures  on  a  slope, 
and  a  number  of  solid,  small  grey  stone  dwellings. 
He  glanced  subconsciously  at  the  stack  of  Shadrach 
Furnace,  and  saw  that  it  was  in  blast  —  a  colourless, 
lively  flame,  with  a  thin,  white  smoke  like  crumpled 
muslin,  playing  about  its  base.  The  metallic  ring  of 
a  smithy  rose  at  a  crossing  of  roads,  and,  from  the 

203 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


cast  house,  drifted  the  refrain  of  a  German  song. 
He  turned  in  by  the  comparatively  long,  low  fa9ade 
of  the  house  where  the  Jannans  were  living. 

A  negro  led  the  horse  and  sleigh  back  to  a  stable ; 
and,  briskly  sounding  the  polished  iron  doorknocker, 
he  let  himself  into  the  dining  room,  a  chamber  with  a 
wide,  pot-hung  fireplace  and  plain  mahogany  consul 
tables  with  wood  chairs  brightly  painted  with  ar- 
chaic flowers  and  scrolls  in  gold.  Standing  at  the 
far  side  of  the  room,  delicately  outlined  against  a 
low,  deeply  embrasured  window,  was  Susan  Brundon. 

A  slow  tide  of  colour  rose  to  her  ordinarily  pale 
cheeks,  corresponding  with  a  formless  gladness  per- 
meating his  own  being.  She  wore  ruffled  lavender, 
with  a  clear  lace  pelerine  caught  at  her  breast  by  a 
knot  of  straw-coloured  ribbon  and  sprig  of  rose 
geranium.  "  Mr.  Penny,"  she  said,  with  a  little  gasp 
of  surprise ;  but  her  gaze  was  unwavering,  candid. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  replied  lightly.  "  I  have  a  small 
interest  in  Shadrach.  You  are  surprising  —  so  far 
from  that  absorbing  Academy." 

"  It's  my  eyes  again,"  she  explained.  "  I  am  ob- 
liged to  rest.  There  is  a  very  good  assistant  at  the 
school ;  and  Mary  sweetly  thought  the  country  would 
do  me  good." 

"  It  is  really  miraculous,"  Mary  Jannan  stated, 
entering  from  the  kitchen ;  "  she'll  almost  never. 
Weren't  we  lucky  ?  "  She  was  a  small  woman  with 
smooth  brown  hair  and  an  air  of  quiet  capability. 
"  And  it's  splendid  to  see  you,"  she  continued  to 
204 


THE  FORGE 


Jasper  Penny.  "  Don't  for  a  minute  think  you'll 
get  off  before  to-morrow,  perhaps  not  then. 
Graham  is  out,  chop-chopping  wood.  Actually 
—  the  suave  Graham."  She  indicated  a  high  row  of 
pegs  for  Jasper  Penny's  furs.  "  Everything  is  ter- 
ribly primitive.  Most  of  the  furniture  was  so  sound 
that  we  couldn't  bring  ourselves  to  discard  it  all, 
however  old-fashioned.  Little  by  little."  Graham 
Jannan  entered,  a  tall,  thin  young  man  with  crisp, 
pale  yellow  hair  and  a  clean  shaven,  sanguine  coun- 
tenance with  challenging  light  blue  eyes.  He  greeted 
the  older  man  with  a  firm,  cold  hand  clasp.  "  I  sup- 
pose you've  come  out  to  discover  what  I  have  learned 
about  iron.  Well,  I  know  now  that  a  sow  is  not  nec- 
essarily a  lady,  and  that  some  blooms  have  no  bou- 
quet. Good  rum  has,  though,  after  sleighing." 

Upon  alternately  burning  his  fingers  and  throat 
with  a  steaming  glass  of  St.  Croix,  Jasper  Penny  and 
Graham  Jannan  proceeded  to  the  Furnace  where,  in 
the  cast  house,  they  watched  the  preparations  for  a 
flow  of  metal.  The  head  founder,  McQuatty,  bearded 
to  the  eyes  and  swathed  in  a  hide  apron,  stood  at  the 
Ironmaster's  side.  "  The  charcoal  you'd  get's  not 
worth  a  bawbee,"  he  complained ;  "  soft  stuff  would 
hardly  run  lead.  And  where  they'd  cut  six  thou- 
sand cords  of  wood  will  no  longer  show  more  than 
four.  Shadrach  ought  to  put  out  twenty-eight  tons 
of  pig  in  a  week ;  and  you  see  the  statements." 

"  Stone  coal,"  Jasper  Penny  replied ;  "  and  a  hot 
blast."  He  turned  to  describe  the  latter  to  Jannan. 

205 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


"  It'll  come,"  the  founder  agreed,  "  and  the  quality 
will  go."  He  went  forward  to  tap  the  clay-sealed 
hearth.  The  liquid  iron  poured  into  the  channels  of 
its  sand  bed,  sputtering  and  slowly  fading  to  dingy 
grey.  "  I'd  like  you  to  take  hold  of  this,"  Jasper 
Penny  told  the  younger  man ;  "  great  changes,  im- 
provements, are  just  over  the  hill.  I'll  miss  them  — 
a  link  between  the  old  and  the  new.  But  you  would 
see  it  all.  The  railroad  will  bring  about  an  iron  age ; 
and  then,  perhaps,  steel.  I  look  for  trouble,  too  — 
this  damned  States  Rights.  The  South  has  been  un- 
easy since  the  Carolina  Nullification  Act.  It  will  be 
a  time  for  action."  He  gazed  keenly  at  Graham  Jan- 
nan.  A  promising  young  man,  he  thought,  with  a 
considerable  asset  in  his  wife.  A  woman,  the  right 
woman,  could  make  a  tremendous  difference  in  a 
man's  capabilities. 

He  elaborated  this  thought  fantastically  at  dinner, 
sitting  opposite  Susan  Brundon.  Mary  Jannan 
wore  orange  crepe,  with  black  loops  of  ball  fringe 
and  purple  silk  dahlias ;  and,  beside  her,  Miss  Brun- 
don's  dress  was  noticeably  simple.  She  volunteered 
little,  but,  when  directly  addressed,  answered  in  a 
gentle,  hesitating  voice  that  veiled  the  directness,  the 
conviction,  of  her  replies.  The  right  woman,  Jasper 
Penny  repeated  silently.  Ten,  fifteen,  years  ago, 
when  he  had  been  free,  he  would  have  acted  immedi- 
ately on  the  feeling  that  Susan  Brundon  was  exactly 
the  wife  he  wanted.  But  no  such  person  had  ap- 
peared at  that  momentous  period  in  his  life. 
206 


THE  FORGE 


However,  then  he  had  been  a  totally  different 
being;  perhaps  the  appreciation  of  Miss  Brundon, 
her  actual  reality,  lay  for  him  entirely  in  his  own  per- 
ceptions. But  if  she  would  not  have  been  the  woman 
for  him  then,  by  heaven,  she  was  now !  He  expressed 
this  unaware  of  its  wide  implications,  unconscious  of 
the  effect  it  would  instantly  have.  The  thing  silently 
uttered  bred  an  enormously  increased  need,  the  ab- 
solute determination  that  she  was  necessary  to  his 
most  perfunctory  being.  The  thought  of  her  alone, 
he  discovered,  had  been  sufficient  to  give  him  a  new 
energy,  a  sense  of  rare  satisfaction. 

Shortly  expressed,  he  wanted  to  marry  her;  he 
had  not,  he  told  himself  oddly,  ever  been  married. 
The  word  had  a  significance  which  heretofore  he  had 
completely  missed.  A  strange  emotion  stirred  into 
being,  a  longing  thrown  out  from  his  new  desire,  the 
late-born  feeling  of  dissatisfaction ;  it  was  a  wish  for 
something  in  Susan  Brundon  which  he  experienced 
but  could  not  name.  Roughly  stated  it  was  a  hunger 
to  surround  her  with  security,  comfort,  to  fortify 
the,  at  best,  doubtful  position  of  life  in  death  for 
her.  Yet  he  acknowledged  to  himself  that  this 
regard  for  her  safety  was  mostly  the  result  of  his 
own  inner,  blind  striving.  Her  happiness  had  mag- 
ically become  his.  Beyond  that  he  was  unable  to 
penetrate. 

After  supper  they  gathered  in  the  chamber  beyond 
the  dining  room.  Here  Jasper  Penny  found  an  in- 
congruous mingling  of  old  and  new  furniture.  There 

207 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


was  a  high,  waxed  walnut  desk  and  cabinet,  severely 
simple,  and  before  it  a  chair  with  a  back  of  elabo- 
rately carved  and  gilded  tulips  tufted  in  plum-col- 
oured velvet.  The  thick  carpet  was  a  deep  rose,  and 
the  drapery  of  the  mantel  and  windows  garnet.  A 
painted  hood  of  brilliant  Chinese  colours  had  been 
fastened  before  what  was  evidently  an  open  hearth, 
for  which  a  coal  stove  was  substituted.  On  the  mid- 
dle of  the  floor  was  an  oriental  hassock  in  silver  bro- 
cade ;  while  a  corner  held  a  spinet-piano  decorated  in 
roseate  cupids,  flower  sprays  and  gold  leaf.  Again, 
an  old  clock  in  Spanish  mahogany,  with  a  rudely 
painted  glass  door,  had  been  left  on  the  wall. 

Mary  Jannan,  at  the  piano,  wove  a  delicate  suc- 
cession of  arpeggios.  She  sang,  in  a  small  and 
graceful  voice,  a  cavatina,  Tanti  Palpiti.  Then, 
"  Ah,  que  les  amours  .  .  .  de  beaux  heurs."  Jasper 
Penny  listened  with  an  unconscious,  approving  pre- 
tence of  understanding.  But  when,  in  the  course  of 
her  repertoire,  she  reached  Sweet  Sister  Fay,  and 
The  Horn  of  My  Loved  One  1  Hear,  his  pleasure 
became  active.  Susan  Brundon,  on  the  hassock, 
lifted  her  sensitive  face  to  the  mild  candle  light, 
and  its  still  pallor  gave  him  a  shock  of  delight.  Her 
hands  were  folded  in  the  voluminous  sweep  of  her 
crinoline;  the  ribbons  at  her  breast  rose  and  fell 
softly. 

Jasper  Penny  and  Graham  were  smoking  long, 
fragrant  cigars  that  the  former  had  produced  from  a 
lacquered  case,  and  Jannan  had  the  ingredients  of 
208 


THE  FORGE 


the  hot  punch  at  his  elbow.  It  amused  the  young 
man  to  persuade  Susan  Brundon  to  take  a  sip  from 
his  glass;  and  they  all  laughed  at  her  subsequent 
gasping.  Jasper  Penny  was  astoundingly  happy; 
his  being  radiated  a  warmth  and  contentment  more 
potent  than  that  of  the  St.  Croix  rum.  It  was  ac- 
companied by  an  extraordinary  lightness  of  spirit, 
a  feeling  of  the  desirability  of  life.  The  memory  of 
his  greying  hair  had  left  him ;  not,  it  was  true,  to  be 
replaced  by  the  surging  emotions  of  youth,  but  by  a 
deep  satisfaction. 

Susan  Brundon,  Susan  .  .  .  the  right  woman. 
He  marvelled  again  at  the  brightness  of  spirit  that 
shone  in  her  —  like  a  flame  through  a  fine  paper  lan- 
tern. Susan,  at  Myrtle  Forge.  His  thought  be- 
came concrete ;  he  knew  now,  definitely,  that  he  had 
determined  to  marry  her.  His  peace  of  mind  in- 
creased. There  was  no  need  for  hurry,  the  mere 
idea  was  irradiating;  yet  there  must  be  no  unneces- 
sary delay.  Incontrovertibly  he  had  passed  forty. 
The  best  period  in  a  man's  life.  They  would  go  to 
the  West  Indies,  he  decided.  A  ring  with  a  square 
emerald,  and  roses  of  pearls.  It  was,  almost  imme- 
diately, time  to  retire.  His  room,  narrow  with  a 
sloping  wall,  had  a  small  window  giving  on  a 
flawless  rectangle  of  snow  like  the  purity  of  Susan 
Brundon. 

As  he  lay  in  bed,  staring  wakefully  against  the 
dark,  another  memory  crept  into  his  thoughts  —  the 
echo  of  a  small,  querulous  voice,  "  yellow  rock  candy 

209 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


and  syllabubs."  Eunice!  A  sudden  consternation 
seized  him  as  he  realized  the  necessity  of  telling  Susan 
fully  about  his  daughter.  No  escape,  evasion,  was 
possible.  If  she  discovered  the  existence^  the  history, 
of  the  child  afterward  —  he  lingered  over  the  hap- 
piness that  term  implied  —  it  would  destroy  her. 
This,  he  told  himself,  was  not  merely  melodrama;  he 
was  thinking  of  her  delicate  spirituality,  so  com- 
pletely shielded  from  the  bald  fatality  of  facts.  An 
increasing  dread  seized  him  at  the  thought  of  the 
hurt  his  revelation  would  inflict  on  her.  The  inter- 
weaving of  life  in  life,  consequence  on  consequence, 
the  unbroken  intricacy  of  the  whole  fabric  of  exist- 
ence, realized  anew,  filled  him  with  bitter  rebellion. 
The  blind  commitment  of  a  vanished  youth,  potent 
after  years,  still  hung  in  a  dark  cloud  over  Susan 
Brundon.  He  was  conscious  of  the  past  like  an  in- 
superable lead  weight  dragging  at  his  attempted 
progress.  The  secret  errors  of  all  the  pasts  that 
had  made  him  rose  in  a  haggard,  shadowy  troop 
about  his  bed,  perpetuated,  multiplied,  against  his 
aspirations  of  tranquil  release. 

Yet,  he  told  himself,  dressing  in  the  bright  flood 
of  morning,  if  nothing  perished  but  the  mere,  shred- 
ding flesh,  one  quality  persisted  equally  with  the 
other  —  the  symbol  of  Essie  Scofield  was  no  more 
actual  than  Susan.  He  had  breakfast  early,  with 
Graham  Jannan;  and,  in  a  reviving  optimism,  ar- 
ranged for  the  Jannans  to  bring  Miss  Brundon  to 
Myrtle  Forge  for  a  night  before  her  departure.  He 
210 


THE  FORGE 


whirled  away,  in  a  sparkling  veil  of  flung  snow  crys- 
tals, before  the  women  appeared. 

Susan  Brundon  would,  naturally,  shrink  from  what 
he  must  tell  her ;  but  he  was  suddenly  confident  of  his 
ability  to  convince  her  of  the  superior  importance  of 
the  actuality  of  what  they  together  might  make  of 
the  future.  He  was  accustomed  to  the  bending  of 
circumstance  to  his  will;  in  the  end  he  would  prove 
stronger  than  any  hesitancy  she  might,  perhaps,  re- 
veal. His  desire  to  have  her  had  grown  to  such 
proportions  that  he  could  not,  for  an  instant,  think 
of  existence  without  her  as  an  intimate  part.  He 
even  mentally  determined  when  he  should  go  to  the 
city,  the  jeweller's,  for  the  square  emerald  and 
flowered  pearls.  He  would  do  over  the  rooms  where 
he  had  lived  in  the  thin  formality  of  his  marriage 
with  Phebe,  settle  an  amount  on  Essie  .  .  .  shred- 
ding flesh.  It  would  do  the  living  woman  no  more 
injury  than  the  dead.  Oranges  and  brandy,  satin 
and  gold  and  ease. 

He  wrote,  through  Stephen  Jannan,  to  Essie  Sco- 
field  that  afternoon,  stating  the  generous  terms  of 
his  final  arrangement  with  her,  making  it  plain  that 
all  personal  contact  between  them  had  reached  an 
end.  Hereafter  she  must  exclusively  address  any 
unavoidable  communications  to  Mr.  Jannan.  She 
disregarded  this  in  a  direct,  inevitably  complaining, 
laborious  scrawl.  However,  he  could  read  through 
it  her  obvious  relief  at  complete  independence.  She 
would,  she  thought,  stay  where  she  was  for  a  little 

£11 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


...  a  period  of  perfunctory  sentimentality  fol- 
lowed. He  destroyed  the  letter,  turning  with  deep 
pleasure  to  the  message  from  Graham  Jannan  that 
he  would  bring  Susan  Brundon  and  Mary  to  Myrtle 
Forge  the  following  day. 

His  mother,  with  Amity  Merken  like  a  timid  and 
reduced  replica  at  her  back,  greeted  the  Jannans 
and  Miss  Brundon  at  the  door.  Jasper  Penny  came 
forward  from  the  smoking  room,  to  the  right  of 
the  main  entrance;  where  the  men  retired  for  an 
appetizer  of  gin  and  bitters.  The  older  man  was 
garbed  with  exact  care.  His  whiskers  were  closely 
trimmed  on  either  side  of  his  severe  mouth  and 
shapely,  dominant  chin;  and  his  sombre  eyes,  un- 
der their  brows  drawn  up  toward  the  temples,  held 
an  unusual  raillery.  Amity  Merken,  he  learned,  had 
desired  to  stay  away  from  the  supper  table;  but,  to 
her  distress,  he  forced  her  into  a  chair  set  by  him- 
self. Susan  sat  at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  in 
the  place  that  had  been  Phebe's.  He  gazed  at  her 
with  a  satisfaction  without  surprise;  for  it  seemed 
to  him  that  the  woman  beyond  him  had  always  oc- 
cupied the  fore  of  his  existence.  She  wore  pale  grey, 
the  opening  at  her  neck  filled  with  soft  lace  and 
pinned  with  a  garnet  brooch,  and  a  deep-fringed, 
white  silk  shawl.  The  conversation  was  ambling, 
but,  to  Jasper  Penny,  pitched  in  a  key  of  utter  de- 
light. He  said  little  through  supper;  and,  at  its 
end,  with  Graham  Jannan,  immediately  followed  the 
others  into  the  parlour. 
212 


THE  FORGE 


There  Mary  Jannan  repeated  her  songs,  French, 
English  and  Italian ;  and  Jasper  Penny  listened  with 
a  poignant,  emotional  response.  Graham  and  his 
wife  had  arranged  to  sleigh  back  to  Shadrach  Fur- 
nace that  evening;  but  Susan  Brundon  was  to  stay 
at  Myrtle  Forge,  and  take  the  train  from  Jaffa  to- 
morrow. The  Jannans,  finally,  departed;  and  Jas- 
per Penny,  showing  Susan  through  the  chambers  of 
the  lower  floor,  succeeded  in  delaying  her,  seated,  in 
the  smoking  room. 


218 


XVII 

NOW  that  the  moment  which  he  had  so  care- 
fully planned  had  arrived  he  was  curiously 
reluctant  to  precipitate  Susan  and  himself 
into  the  future.  The  lamps  on  a  mantel,  hooded  in 
alabaster,  cast  a  diffused  radiance  over  Susan's  sil- 
very dress,  on  her  countenance  faintly  flushed  above 
the  white  folds  of  the  shawl.  "  What  is  that 
sound  ? "  she  suddenly  queried.  "  I  heard  it  all 
through  supper  and  before.  It  seems  to  live  in  the 
walls,  the  very  air,  here." 

"  The  trip  hammer  of  Myrtle  Forge,"  he  replied 
gravely.  "  I  suppose  it  might,  fancifully,  be  called 
the  beating  of  the  Penny  heart;  it  does  pound 
through  every  associated  stone;  and  I  have  a  notion 
that  when  it  stops  we  shall  stop  too.  The  Penny 
men  have  all  been  faithful  to  it,  and  it  has  been 
faithful  to  us,  given  us  a  hold  in  a  new  country,  a 
hold  of  wrought  iron." 

"  How  beautiful,"  she  murmured ;  "  how  strong 
and  safe ! " 

"  It  pleases  me  that  you  feel  that,"  he  plunged  di- 
rectly into  his  purpose ;  "  for  I  intend  to  offer  you 
aTl  the  strength  and  safety  it  contains."  Her 
hands  fluttered  to  her  cheeks ;  a  sudden  fear  touched 
214 


THE  FORGE 


her,  yet  her  eyes  found  his  unwaveringly.  "  If  that 
were  all,"  he  continued,  standing  above  her, "  if  I  had 
only  to  tell  you  of  the  iron,  if  the  metal  were  flawless, 
I'd  be  overwhelmed  with  gladness.  But  almost  no 
iron  is  perfect,  the  longest  refining  leaves  bubbles, 
faults.  Men  are  like  that,  too  .  .  .  Susan."  She 
grew  troubled,  sensitively  following  his  mood;  her 
hands  were  now  pressed  to  her  breast,  her  lips  parted. 
She  was  so  bewilderingly  pure,  in  her  dim-lit,  pearly 
haze  of  silk,  that  he  paused  with  an  involuntary  con- 
traction of  pain  at  what  must  follow. 

"  The  child,  Eunice,"  he  struggled  on ;  "  I  couldn't 
leave  her  at  the  Academy  because  it  might  injure 
you.  I  had  brought  her  in  a  most  blind  egotism; 
and  so  I  took  her  away.  She  is  my  daughter." 

He  saw  that  at  first  she  totally  missed  the  implica- 
tion of  his  words.  "  But,"  she  stammered,  "  I  was 
told  you  had  no  ...  how  would  that  — ?  "  Then 
she  stopped  as  sharply  as  if  a  hand  had  compressed 
her  throat.  A  vivid  mantle  of  colour  rose  in  her 
face ;  she  made  a  motion  of  rising,  of  flight,  but  sank 
back  weakly.  "  It  is  criminally  indelicate  to  speak 
to  you  of  this,"  he  said,  "  but  it  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary. I  want  to  marry  you ;  in  that  circumstance  a 
lie  would  be  fatal,  later  or  sooner." 

She  attempted  to  speak,  her  lips  quivered,  but 
only  a  low  gasp  was  audible.  It  was  worse,  even, 
than  he  had  feared.  Now,  however,  that  he  had 
told  her,  he  felt  happier,  more  confident.  Surely, 
after  a  little,  she  would  forgive,  forget.  "  I  want 

215 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


to  marry  you,"  he  repeated,  torn  with  pity  at  her 
fragility,  her  visible  suffering.  "  All  that  might 
hurt  you  has  been  put  out  of  my  life,  out  of  our 
future.  The  way  is  open  before  us,  the  refining.  I 
would  do  anything  to  spare  you,  believe  that;  but 
the  truth,  now,  best." 

"  Always,"  she  said  in  a  faint  voice.  "  I  am  try- 
ing to  —  to  realize.  Oh !  I  suppose  such  things  do 
occur ;  but  the  child  herself,  you  —  don't  see  how 
that,  so  near  — "  she  broke  off,  gazing  wide-eyed  out 
of  her  misery.  He  was  conscious  of  the  dull,  regular 
beat  of  the  Forge  hammer.  God,  how  the  imperfec- 
tions persisted!  But,  he  told  himself  savagely,  in 
the  end  the  metal  was  steadfast.  He  would,  cer- 
tainly, overcome  her  natural  revulsion  from  what  she 
had  just  heard.  The  colour  had  left  her  cheeks, 
violet  shadows  gathered  about  her  eyes;  she  seemed 
more  unsubstantial  than  ever.  He  would  repay 
again  and  again  the  suffering  he  had  brought  her. 
Having  declared  himself  he  was  almost  tranquil; 
there  was  a  total  absence  of  the  impetuous  emotion- 
alism of  youth,  the  blind  tyranny  of  desire.  His 
feeling  was  deeper,  and  accompanied  by  a  far  more 
involved  philosophy  of  self-recognition.  At  the  same 
time,  while  acutely  conscious  of  his  absolute  need  of 
Susan  Brundon,  he  was  at  a  loss  to  discover  its  es- 
sence, shape.  Before  he  had  known  her  he  had  been 
obsessed  by  a  distaste  for  his  existence ;  he  had  des- 
perately wanted  something  without  definition  .  .  . 
And  Susan  was  that  desire,  delicate,  clear-eyed 
216 


THE  FORGE 


Susan.     Yet,   still,   the  heart   of  her  escaped  him. 

Jasper  Penny  had  told  himself  that  his  new  dis- 
satisfaction was  merely  the  result  of  his  accumu- 
lating years;  but,  beyond  the  fact  that  such  an  in- 
crease might  have  brought  him  different  and  keener 
perceptions,  that  explanation  was  entirely  inade- 
quate. He  wanted  a  quality  beyond  his  experience, 
beyond,  he  realized,  any  material  condition  —  Susan 
Brundon,  yes;  but  it  was  no  comparatively  simple 
urge  of  sex,  the  natural  selection  of  the  general  ani- 
mal creation.  There  was  no  question  of  passionate 
importunities;  those,  here,  would  be  worse  than 
futile ;  all  that  he  desired  was  beyond  words,  moving 
in  obedience  to  a  principle  of  which  he  had  not 
caught  the  slightest  glimpse.  Yet,  confident  of  his 
ultimate  victory,  he  maintained  the  dominating  pres- 
ence of  a  black  Penny. 

Susan  Brundon  had  sunk  back  into  the  depths  of 
her  capacious  chair;  she  seemed  utterly  exhausted, 
as  if  she  had  been  subjected  to  a  prolonged  brutal 
strain.  But  still  her  eyes  sought  him  steady  in 
their  hurt  regard.  "  There  is  so  much  that  I  can 
give  you,"  he  blundered,  immediately  conscious  of  the 
sterility  of  his  phrase.  "  I  mean  better  things  — 
peace  and  attention  and  —  and  understanding.  I 
won't  attempt  any  of  the  terms  usual,  commonplace, 
at  such  moments,  you  must  take  them,  where  they 
are  worthy,  for  granted.  I  only  tell  you  a  lamenta- 
ble fact,  and  ask  you  to  marry  me,  promise  you  the 
tenderest  care  — " 

217 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


"  I  know  that,"  she  replied,  with  obvious  difficulty, 
hesitation.  "  I'll  not  thank  you.  It  is  terribly  dif- 
ficult for  me.  I'd  like  to  answer  you  as  you  wish, 
I  mean  reply  to  —  to  your  request.  But  the  other, 
the  child,  dragged  about ;  there  was  such  a  distrust, 
a  wariness,  in  her  face." 

"  There  is  no  good  in  thinking  of  that  alone,"  he 
stated,  with  a  return  of  his  customary  decision. 
"  No  one  can  walk  backwards  into  the  future.  Try 
to  consider  only  the  immediate  question,  what  I  have 
asked  you  —  will  you  marry  me  ?  " 

"  Is  that  all  you  have  to  explain  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  Is  there,  now,  no  one  else  that  counts  ?  "  The  edge 
of  a  cold  dread  entered  his  hopes.  "  If  you  refer 
to  the  child's  mother,"  he  said  stiffly,  "  she  is  amply 
well  taken  care  of,  you  need  waste  no  sentimental 
thoughts  on  her." 

"  Ah !  "  Susan  exclaimed,  shrinking.  Her  hands 
closed  tightly  on  the  wide  silk  of  her  skirt.  The  fear 
deepened  within  him;  it  would  be  impossible  to  ex- 
plain Essie  to  the  woman  before  him.  Essie,  falsely 
draped  in  conventional  attributes,  defied  him  to  utter 
the  simple  truth.  He  raged  silently  at  his  impo- 
tence, the  inhibition  that  prevented  the  expression  of 
what  might  be  said  for  himself.  Essie  Scofield  had, 
like  every  one  else,  lived  in  the  terms  of  her  being, 
attracting  to  herself  what  essentially  she  was ;  it  was 
neither  bad  nor  good,  but  inevitable.  His  contact 
with  her  had  been  the  result  of  mutual  qualities, 
qualities  that  were  no  longer  valid.  Yet  to  say  that 
218 


THE  FORGE 


would  place  him  in  a  damnable  light,  give  him  the 
aspect  of  the  meanest  opportunist.  Susan  breathed, 
"  That  poor  woman."  It  was  precisely  what  he  had 
expected,  feared  —  the  adventitious  illusion !  He 
had  an  impulse  to  describe  to  her,  even  at  the  price 
of  his  own  condemnation,  the  condition  in  which  he 
had  found  Eunice;  but  that  too  perished  silently. 
Jasper  Penny  grew  restive  under  the  unusual  re- 
straint of  his  position. 

"  Do  you  mind  —  no  more  at  present."  Susan 
Brundon  said.  "I  am  upset;  please,  another  time; 
if  it  is  necessary.  I  feel  that  I  couldn't  answer  any- 
thing now.  I  must  go  up ;  no,  your  mother  will  show 
me."  She  rose,  and  he  realized  that  she  would  listen 
no  further.  There  was  an  astonishing  strength  of 
purpose  behind  her  deprecating  presence.  She  was 
more  determined  than  himself.  He  watched  her  walk 
evenly  from  the  room,  heard  the  low  stir  of  voices  be- 
yond, with  a  feeling  that  he  had  been  perhaps  fatally 
clumsy.  All  that  he  had  said  had  been  wrong, 
brutally  selfish.  He  had  deliberately  invited  failure ; 
he  should  have  been  patient,  waited;  given  her  a 
chance  to  know  and,  if  possible,  value  him,  come  to 
depend  on  him,  on  his  judgment,  his  ability  in  her 
welfare.  But,  in  place  of  making  himself  a  neces- 
sity, he  had  launched  at  once  into  facts  which  she 
must  find  hideous.  She  had  said,  "  another  time,  if 
necessary."  His  mouth  drew  into  a  set  line  —  there 
would  be  another  and  another,  until  he  had  per- 
suaded, gained,  her. 

310 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


He  lit  a  cigar,  and  walked  discontentedly  up  and 
across  the  room.  The  sound  of  the  Forge  hammer 
again  crept  into  his  consciousness:  the  Penny  iron 
—  the  fibre,  the  actuality,  of  the  Penny  men !  He 
repeated  this  arrogantly ;  but  the  declaration  no 
longer  brought  reassurance;  the  certainty  even  of 
the  iron  faded  from  him ;  he  had  failed  there,  too, 
digging  a  pit  of  oblivion  for  all  that  their  genera- 
tions of  toil  had  accomplished.  The  past  inexorably 
woven  into  the  pattern  of  the  future!  Eunice,  so 
soon  wary,  distrustful,  Susan  had  seen  that  im- 
mediately, would  perpetuate  all  that  he  wished 
dead  —  Essie  and  himself  bound  together,  projected 
in  an  undesirable  immortality  through  endless  lives 
striving,  like  himself,  to  escape  from  old  chains. 

If  he  failed  with  Susan  his  existence  would  have 
been  an  unmitigated  evil ;  the  iron,  his  petty,  material 
triumphs,  would  rust,  but  the  other  go  on  and  on. 
His  thoughts  became  a  maze  of  pity  for  Eunice,  in- 
finite regret  of  the  past,  a  bitter  energy  of  hope  for 
what  might  follow. 

He  turned  with  pride  to  his  forging  —  long- 
wrought  charcoal  iron ;  the  world  would  know  no  bet- 
ter. Still,  with  his  penetration  of  the  future,  he  real- 
ized that  the  old,  careful  processes  were  doomed. 
He  had  difficulty  in  assembling  enough  adequate 
workmen  to  fill  the  increasing  contracts  for  bar  iron 
and  rails  now ;  and  the  demand,  with  the  extension  of 
steam  railways,  would  grow  resistlessly.  More 
wholesale  methods  of  production  were  being  utilized 
220 


THE  FORGE 


daily ;  he  was  one  of  the  foremost  adherents  of  "  im- 
provement " ;  but  suddenly  he  felt  a  poignant  regret 
at  the  inevitable  passing  of  the  old  order  of  great 
Ironmasters,  the  principalities  of  furnaces  and 
forges.  He  was  still,  he  felt,  such  a  master  of  his 
men  and  miles  of  forests  and  clearings,  lime  pits  and 
ore  banks,  coal  holes,  mills,  coke  ovens,  hearths 
and  manufactories.  He  might  still  drive  to  Vir- 
ginia through  a  continuous  line  of  his  interests;  his 
domination  over  his  labourers,  in  all  their  personal 
and  industrial  implications,  was  patriarchal ;  he  com- 
manded, through  their  allegiance  and  his  entire 
grasp  on  every  iota  of  their  living,  their  day's  jour- 
ney ;  but,  he  told  himself,  he  was  practically  the  last 
of  his  kind. 

New  and  different  industrial  combinations  were 
locking  together  in  great  agglomerations  of  widely- 
separated  activities ;  the  human  was  superseded  by 
the  industrial  machine,  where  men  were  efficient,  sub- 
servient cogs  in  a  cold  and  successful  automaton 
of  business.  A  system  of  general  credit  was  spring- 
ing up;  the  old,  old  payments  in  kind,  in  iron  or 
even  meal  and  apparel,  or  gold,  had  given  place  to 
reciprocal  understandings  of  deferred  indebtedness. 
The  actual  thousands  of  earlier  commerce  were  re- 
placed by  theoretical  millions.  His  own  realty,  his 
personal  property,  because  of  such  understandings, 
were  outside  computation.  They  were,  he  knew, 
reckoned  in  surprising  figures ;  but  in  a  wide-spread 
panic,  forced  liquidation,  the  greater  part  of  his 

2£1 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


wealth  would  break  like  straw.  It  was  the  same  with 
the  entire  country. 

His  thoughts  returned  to  Susan,  to  the  longing 
for  the  peace,  the  inviolable  security,  she  would  bring 
to  the  centre,  the  heart,  of  his  life.  No  material 
catastrophe  could  shape,  deplete,  her  richness  of 
spirit.  Fragile  as  she  was,  with  her  need  of  rest, 
her  diffidence  and  pallor,  she  yet  seemed  to  Jasper 
Penny  the  most  —  the  only  —  secure  thing  in  the 
world.  She  defied,  he  murmured,  death  itself. 
Wonderful. 

He  moved  slowly  to  his  sombre  bed  room,  with  its 
dark  velour  hangings  and  ponderous  black  walnut 
furniture,  precisely  scrolled  with  gilt.  The  interior 
absorbed  the  light  of  a  single  lamp,  robbing  it  of 
radiance.  A  clock  deliberately  struck  the  hour  with 
an  audible  whirring  of  the  spring.  Jasper  Penny 
took  out  from  a  drawer  a  tall,  narrow  ledger,  its 
calf  binding  powdering  in  a  yellow  dust,  with  a  blur- 
ring label,  "  Forgebook.  Myrtle  Forge,  1750." 
He  sat,  opening  it  on  the  arm  of  an  old  Windsor 
reading  chair  he  had  insisted  on  retaining  among 
the  recent  upholstery,  and  studied  the  entries,  some 
written  in  a  small  script  with  ornamental  capitals 
and  red  lined  day  headings,  others  in  an  abrupt  man- 
ner with  heavy  down  strokes.  The  latter,  he  knew, 
had  been  made  by  his  great  grandfather,  Howat. 

"  Jonas  Rupp  charged  with  three  pair  of  woollen 
stockings  .  .  .  shoes  for  Minnie."  Howat  had  been 
young  when  Minnie's  shoes  were  new;  twenty  some- 
222 


THE  FORGE 


thing  —  five  or  six.  He  must  have  married  not  long 
after.  Howat  —  like  himself  —  a  black  Penny. 
The  special  interest  Jasper  Penny  felt  for  this  par- 
ticular ancestor  grew  so  vivid  that  he  almost  felt 
the  other's  presence  in  the  room  at  his  shoulder. 
He  consciously  repressed  the  desire  to  turn  suddenly 
and  surprise  the  shadowy  and  yet  clear  figure  in  the 
gloom.  The  features  of  the  youth  so  long  gone,  and 
yet,  too,  he  felt,  the  replica  of  his  own  young  years, 
were  plain;  the  dark  eyes,  slanted  brows,  the  im- 
patient mouth. 

His  community  of  sympathy  with  the  other,  who 
was  still,  in  a  measure,  himself,  was  inexplicable ;  for 
obviously  Howat  had  escaped  Jasper's  blundering  — 
an  early  marriage,  a  son,  the  son  whose  name,  like 
his  mother's,  made  such  an  exotic  note  in  a  long, 
sound  succession  of  Isabels  and  Carolines  and  Gil- 
berts, was  a  far  different  tale  from  his  own.  Yet  it 
persisted.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  silence  of  the 
room  grew  strained,  there  was  the  peculiar  tension 
of  a  muteness  desperately  striving  for  utterance. 
He  waited,  listened,  in  a  rigidity  of  which  he  was 
suddenly  ashamed;  ridiculous.  He  relaxed;  the 
memory  of  his  own  youth  flooded  back,  rapt  him  in 
visions,  scents,  sounds.  The  premonitory  whirring 
of  the  clock  spring  sounded  once  more,  followed  by 
the  slow,  increasing  strokes  .  .  .  Again.  His  body 
wavered,  on  the  verge  of  sleep,  and  he  straightened 
himself  sharply ;  then  he  rose  and,  putting  back  the 
Forgebook,  undressed. 

22S 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 

Susan,  at  breakfast,  her  shoulders  wrapped  in  a 
serious-toned  pelerine,  said  little.  Jasper  Penny  in- 
stinctively excluded  her  from  a  trivial  conversation. 
She  was,  he  decided,  paler  than  usual,  the  shadows 
under  her  eyes  were  indigo.  He  was  filled  with  self- 
condemnation.  Mrs.  Penny,  gazing  at  her  with  a 
beady  discernment,  asked  if  her  rest  had  been  inter- 
rupted. "  I  am  always  an  indifferent  sleeper," 
Susan  Brundon  replied  evasively.  He  followed  her 
into  the  carriage  that  was  to  take  her  to  the  station 
at  Jaffa;  and,  ignoring  her  slight  gasp  of  protest, 
grasped  the  reins  held  by  the  negro  coachman. 
However,  they  proceeded  over  the  short  distance  to 
the  town  without  speech.  He  was  torn  between  a 
wish  to  spare  her  and  the  desire  to  urge  his  own  pur- 
pose. But  more  immediately  he  wanted  to  make 
secure  the  near  hour  of  his  seeing  her  again.  He 
asked,  finally,  "  Will  you  be  at  the  Jannans'  this 
week,  or  are  visitors  received  at  the  Academy  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied  to  the  first ;  "  and  I  have  very 
little  time  between  classes.  You  see,  they  fill  the 
whole  day,  tasks  and  pleasures.  It  is  difficult  for 
me  to  —  to  talk  on  a  generality  of  themes  with 
callers." 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  being  diffuse,"  he  replied 
pointedly.  "  I  could  confine  my  entire  conversation 
to  one  request  — " 

"  Please,"  she  interrupted  pitiably.  "  I  am  ut- 
terly wretched  now.  The  simplest  gentility  — "  she 
224 


THE  FORGE 


paused,  but  her  wish  was  clear.  He  restrained  him- 
self with  difficulty.  Drifting  slowly  across  the  scat- 
tered roofs  of  the  town  was  the  leaden  smoke  of  his 
mills  and  fires ;  as  they  drove  into  the  main  street  the 
thin  crash  of  his  iron  was  audible.  Men  everywhere 
bowed  to  him  with  marked  respect.  But  the  woman 
at  his  side  sat  erect,  drawn  away  from  him,  unmoved 
by  all  that,  to  the  world,  he  was.  There  was  an 
appalling  quality  in  her  aloofness  from  what,  ma- 
terially, he  might  advance  in  extenuation ;  the  things 
so  generally  potent  here  were  no  more  than  slag. 
He  searched  within  for  what  might  bend,  influence, 
her,  for  whatever  he  might  have  of  value  in  her  eyes. 
He  found  nothing.  It  was  a  novel  and  painful  ex- 
perience; and  it  bred  in  him  a  certain  anger;  he 
became  merely  stubborn.  He  declared  to  himself, 
with  an  oath,  that  he  would  gain  her;  and  he  pulled 
up  his  horses  viciously  at  the  station  rack.  This, 
too,  hurt  her;  she  exclaimed  faintly  at  the  brutally 
drawn  bits.  A  man  hurried  forward  to  take  her 
bag,  and  then,  in  a  blowing  of  horn,  a  harsh  exhaust 
of  steam,  she  was  gone.  A  last,  hurried  impression 
of  her  delicate  profile  on  a  small  pane  of  glass  ac- 
companied him  back  to  Myrtle  Forge.  There  his 
mother  regarded  him  with  an  open  concern. 
"  Something's  on  your  mind,"  she  declared.  "  I 
passed  your  door  at  midnight,  and  there  was  light 
under  it.  I've  often  told  you  about  sitting  up  late." 
"  I'm  getting  along,"  he  replied  lightly.  "  You 

225 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


fail  to  do  justice  to  the  weight  of  my  increasing  ma- 
jority. But,  in  a  little,  you'll  be  astonished  at  my 
renewed  youth."  He  became  serious  in  speaking, 
conscious  of  the  new  life  Susan  would,  must,  bring 
into  his  existence. 


226 


XVIII 

SINCE  he  had  declared  himself  so  decidedly 
and  at  once,  no  hesitation  was  possible;  he 
must,  he  was  aware,  move  remorselessly  for- 
ward in  assault.  To  sweep  Susan  Brundon  into  his 
desire,  overwhelm  her  defences  —  he  called  them 
prejudices  but  immediately  after  withdrew  that  term 
—  offered  the  greatest,  the  only  promise  of  success. 
An  obliterating  snow  fell  for  the  following  thirty 
hours,  and  a  week  went  by  in  the  readjustment  to 
ordinary  conditions  of  living  and  travel.  But  at 
the  end  of  that  period  Jasper  Penny  left  Myrtle 
Forge  for  the  city,  with  a  determined,  an  almost 
confident,  mouth,  and  a  bright,  hard  gaze.  Late 
afternoon,  he  decided,  would  be  the  best  time  for  his 
appearance  at  the  Academy.  And  the  western  sky 
was  a  luminous,  bright  red  when  he  passed  under 
the  stripped,  uneasy  branches  of  the  willow  trees  to 
the  school  door. 

Miss  Brundon's  office,  rigorous  as  the  corridor  of 
a  hospital,  had  a  table  and  uncompromising  wooden 
chairs  on  a  rectangle  of  bluish-pink  carpet;  a  glow- 
ing, round  stove  held  a  place  on  a  square  of  gleam- 
ing, embossed  zinc,  while  the  remaining  surfaces  were 
scrubbed  oak  flooring  and  white  calcimine.  A  large 

227 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


geographer's  globe,  a  sphere  of  pale,  glazed  yellow 
traced  in  violet  and  thin  vermilion  and  cobalt,  rested 
on  an  involuted  mahogany  stand;  and  a  pile  of  text 
books  covered  in  gay  muslin  made  a  single,  decisive 
note  of  colour. 

She  kept  him  waiting,  he  felt  uneasily,  a  long  while ; 
perhaps  she  had  a  class;  but  he  felt  that  that  was 
not  the  reason  for  her  delay.  When  she  finally  ap- 
peared in  soft  brown  merino,  with  a  deep  fichu  of  old, 
dark  lace,  and  black  ribbons,  she  courageously  held 
out  a  delightfully  cool,  smooth  hand.  "  At  first," 
she  said  directly,  "  I  thought  it  would  be  better  not 
to  see  you  at  all.  Yet  that  wasn't  genteel;  and  I 
felt,  too,  that  I  must  speak  to  you.  Even  at  the 
danger,  perhaps,  of  trespassing  into  your  privacy." 

"  I  have  given  you  the  absolute  right  to  do  that," 
he  told  her.  "  It  will  only  bring  me  pleasure,  to  — 
to  suppose  I  interest  you  enough  — " 

"  Ah,  but  you  do,"  she  cried  with  clasping  fingers. 
"  It  has  made  my  work  here  very  difficult ;  the  quiet 
has  gone  before  echoes  that  I  think  every  child  must 
hear,  echoes  from  spaces  and  things  that  appall  me. 
Here,  you  see,  I  have  lived  so  apart  from  others,  per- 
haps selfishly,  that  I  had  grown  accustomed  to  a 
false  sense  of  peace.  Only  lessons  and  little  ques- 
tions, little  hands.  It  seems  now  that  I  have  been 
outside  of  life  itself,  in  a  cowardly  seclusion.  Yet  it 
had  always  been  that  way;  I  didn't  know."  Her 
face  was  deeply  troubled,  the  clear  depths  of  her  eyes 
held  a  new  questioning  doubt. 
228 


THE  FORGE 


"  It's  because  of  that,  mainly,  I  ask  you  to  marry 
me,"  he  replied,  standing  before  the  table  at  which, 
unconsciously,  she  had  taken  her  place ;  "  it  is  be- 
cause of  your  astonishing  purity.  You  are  so  beau- 
tiful ;  and  this  quiet,  peace  —  you  must  have  it  all 
your  life;  it  is  the  air,  the  garden  air,  for  you  to 
flower  in.  I  can  give  it  to  you,  miles  of  it,  farther 
than  you  can  see.  All  that  you  care  for  heaped 
about  you.  But  not  that  only,"  he  insisted,  "  for  I 
realized  that  no  one  lives  to  whom  such  things  are 
less ;  I  can  give  you  something  more,  not  to  be  talked 
about;  whatever  my  life  has  been  it  has  at  least 
brought  me  to  your  feet.  I  have  learned,  for  you, 
that  there  is  a  thing  men  must  have,  God  knows 
exactly  what  —  a  craving  to  be  satisfied,  a  —  a 
reaching.  And  that  itself,  the  knowledge  of  such 
need,  is  not  without  value.  Because  of  it  I  again, 
and  shall  again,  if  necessary,  ask  you  to  marry  me." 

She  replied  in  a  low  voice.  "  You  must  marry  the 
child's  mother."  For  the  first  time  she  avoided  him ; 
bright  blood  burned  in  her  cheeks;  a  hand  on  the 
edge  of  the  table  was  straining,  white.  A  sudden 
feeling  of  helplessness  came  over  him,  with,  behind  it, 
the  ever-present  edge  of  anger,  of  impatience.  He 
took  a  step  forward,  as  if  to  crush,  by  sheer  insist- 
ence, her  opposition;  but  he  stopped.  He  lost  en- 
tirely the  sense  of  her  fragile  physical  being;  she 
seemed  only  a  spirit,  shining  and  high,  and  insu- 
perably lovely.  Then  all  feeling  was  lost  but  the 
realization  that  he  could  not  —  in  any  true  sense  — 

229 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


live  without  her.  "  Susan,"  he  said,  leaning  for- 
ward, "  vou  must  marry  me.  Do  you  care  for  me 
at  all?"" 

Her  breast  rose  and  fell  under  the  delicate  contour 
of  her  wool  gown.  "  The  child's  mother,"  she  re- 
peated, "  you  should  marry  her.  How  can  you  do 
differently?  What  can  it  matter  if  I  care  about 
you  ?  "  She  raised  a  miserable  face.  "  How  can 
I  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  could  think  of  no  other  answer  than  to  repeat 
his  supreme  necessity  for  her.  He  struggled  to  tell 
her  that  this  was  an  altogether  different  man  from 
Essie  Scofield's  companion;  but  his  words  were  un- 
convincing, limited  by  the  inhibition  of  custom.  A 
transparent  dusk  deepened  in  the  room  accompanied 
by  a  pause  only  broken  by  the  faint  explosions  of  the 
soft  coal.  The  power  of  persuasion,  of  speech,  ap- 
peared to  have  left  him.  There  must  be  some  con- 
vincing thing  to  say,  some  last,  all-powerful,  argu- 
ment. It  eluded  him.  The  exasperation  returned, 
spreading  through  his  being. 

"  Surely,"  she  said  laboriously,  "  there  is  only  one 
course  for  you,  for  us  all." 

"  I'll  never  marry  Essie  Scofield ! "  he  declared 
bluntly.  His  voice  was  unexpectedly  loud,  unpleas- 
ant ;  and  it  surprised  him  only  less  than  Susan  Brun- 
don.  She  drew  back,  and  the  colour  sank  from  her 
cheeks ;  an  increasing  fear  of  him  was  visible. 
"  In  the  first  place,"  he  continued,  "  Essie  probably 
wouldn't  hear  of  it.  And  if  I  managed  that  it  would 
230 


THE  FORGE 


be  only  to  make  a  private  hell  for  us  both.  It 
would  not,  it  couldn't,  last  a  month.  There  is  noth- 
ing magical  in  marriage  itself,  there's  no  general  sal- 
vation in  it,  nothing  to  change  a  man  or  woman. 
Why,  by  heaven,  that's  what  you  have  taught  me, 
that  is  the  heart  of  my  wanting  you.  You  must 
feel  it  to  understand."  He  circled  the  table  and 
laid  a  hand  on  the  back  of  her  chair.  "  Susan." 

Her  head  was  bowed,  and  he  could  see  only  her 
smooth,  dark  bands  of  hair  and  the  whiteness  of  her 
neck.  "  Susan,"  he  said  again.  "  A  second  wrong 
will  not  cure  the  first.  If  one  was  inexcusable  the 
other  would  be  fatal.  Married  —  to  some  one  else, 
with  yourself  always  before  me  —  surely  you  must 
see  the  impossibility  of  that.  And  am  I  to  come  to 
nothing,  eternally  fail,  because  of  the  past?  Isn't 
there  any  escape,  any  hope,  any  possibility?  You 
don't  realize  how  very  much  will  go  down  with  me. 
I  am  a  man  in  the  middle  of  life,  and  haven't  the  time, 
the  elasticity,  of  youth.  A  few  more  years  to  the 
descent.  But,  with  you,  they  could  be  splendidly 
useful,  happy ;  happy,  I  think,  for  us  both.  I  know 
that  a  great  many  people  would  say  as  you  have,  but 
it  is  wrong  in  every  aspect,  absolutely  hopeless. 
Essie's  values  are  totally  different  from  yours ;  she 
has  her  own  necessities ;  one  measure  will  not  do  for 
all  women." 

She  rose  and  stood  facing  him,  very  near,  her 
crinoline  swaying  against  him,  and  said  blindly, 
"  You  shall  marry  her." 

2S1 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


"  I'll  be  damned  if  I  do,"  Jasper  Penny  asserted. 
"  I  will  marry  you,  you,"  he  whispered,  with  his  lips 
against  the  fineness  of  her  ear.  Her  hands  were  on 
his  shoulders;  but  she  neither  drew  herself  into  his 
embrace  nor  repulsed  him.  He  wanted  to  crush  her 
softness  in  his  arms,  to  kiss  her  still  face  into 
acquiescence.  The  quality,  the  kind,  of  his  need 
made  it  impossible.  She  slipped  back  without  a 
sound  into  her  chair,  drooping  forward  over  the 
table. 

A  sharp  pity  invaded  him,  holding  him  back  from 
her,  silencing  the  flow  of  his  reasoning  and  appeal. 
It  defeated,  in  the  stirring  tenderness  of  its  consid- 
eration, his  purpose.  He  could  not  continue  tor- 
menting her,  racking  her  delicate,  taut  sensibilities 
by  a  hard  insistence.  He  withdrew  quietly,  to  where 
his  hat  and  stick  rested  on  a  chair,  and  gathered 
them  up.  Still  she  didn't  move,  raise  her  head, 
break  the  low  fumbling  of  the  soft  coal.  He  could 
no  longer  distinguish  her  clearly,  she  was  blurring  in 
a  dusk  deeping  so  imperceptibly  that  it  seemed  a 
gradual  failing  of  his  vision.  The  geographer's 
globe  appeared  to  sway  slightly,  like  a  balloon  tied 
to  a  string;  the  gay  muslin  of  the  piled  text  books 
had  lost  their  designs.  Suddenly  the  room  without 
motion,  the  approaching  night,  the  desirable  presence 
of  the  woman  growing  more  immaterial,  more  shadow- 
like  to  elude  his  reaching  hands,  presented  a  symbol, 
an  epitome,  of  himself.  Day  fading  swiftly  into 
dark;  dissolving  the  realities  of  table  and  flesh  and 
232 


THE  FORGE 


floor;  leaving  only  the  hunger,  the  insuperable  in- 
ner necessity  and  sense  of  loss. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  breathed.  Jasper  Penny  saw 
that  she  raised  her  head,  he  caught  the  glimmering 
pallor  of  her  face.  But  she  said  nothing,  and  sank 
back  into  the  crumpled  position  on  the  table.  He 
went  out,  closing  the  door  of  the  office,  shutting  her 
into  the  loneliness  of  her  resolve,  her  insistence. 

In  the  familiar  rooms  at  Sanderson's  Hotel  he  re- 
volved again  and  again  all  that  she  had  said.  For  a 
little  he  even  endeavoured  to  inspect  calmly  the  possi- 
bility of  a  marriage  with  Essie  Scofield.  Steeped  in 
Susan's  spirit  he  thought  of  it  as  a  reparation,  to 
Eunice,  perhaps  to  Essie,  but  more  certainly  to  an 
essence  within  himself.  But  immediately  he  saw  the 
futility  of  such  a  course;  the  inexorable  logic  of 
existence  could  not  be  so  easily  placated,  its  rhym- 
ing of  cause  and  effect  defeated.  All  that  he  had 
told  Susan  Brundon  recurred  strengthened  to  an 
immovable  conviction.  The  thought  of  marrying 
Essie  was  intolerable,  farcical ;  to  the  woman  herself 
it  would  mean  utter  boredom.  Such  a  thing  must 
lead  inevitably  to  a  greater  misfortune  than  any  of 
the  past.  Susan,  in  her  resplendent  ignorance  of 
facts,  failed  to  realize  the  impossibility  of  what  she 
upheld.  No,  no,  it  was  out  of  the  question. 

He  wondered  if  he  had  progressed  in  the  other,  his 
supreme,  wish.  And  he  felt,  with  a  stirring  of  blood, 
that  he  had.  Susan  cared  for  him;  her  action  had 
made  that  plain.  That  was  a  tremendous  advan- 

233 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


tage;  with  another  he  would  have  thought  it  con- 
clusive; but  not  —  not  quite  with  Susan  Brundon. 
He  had  a  deep  regard  for  her  determination,  so  sur- 
prising in  the  midst  of  her  fragility.  Yet,  if  pity 
had  not  prevented  him,  this  afternoon,  in  her  office, 
he  might  have  forced  her  to  a  sharper  realization  of 
a  more  earthly  need,  the  ache  for  sympathy,  con- 
solation, the  imperative  cry  of  self.  That  was  his 
greatest  difficulty,  to  overcome  her  lifelong  habit  of 
thinking  of  others  before  herself.  Such,  he  knew, 
was  the  root  of  her  appeal  for  Essie,  rather  than  a 
cold,  dogmatic  conception.  Self-effacement. 

At  this  a  restive  state  followed ;  personally  he  had 
no  confidence  in  the  sacrifice  of  individual  aims  and 
happiness.  Any  course  of  that  sort,  he  told  him- 
self, in  the  management  of  his  practical  affairs, 
would  have  resulted  in  his  failure.  There  were  a 
hundred  men  in  the  country  plotting  for  his  over- 
throw, anxious  to  take  his  position,  scheming  to  un- 
dersell him,  to  discover  the  secret  of  the  quality  of  his 
iron  rails.  Others  he  had  deliberately,  necessarily, 
ruined.  No  good  would  have  been  served  by  his 
stepping  aside,  allowing  smaller  men  to  flourish  and 
annoy  him,  cut  down  his  production  by  inconsider- 
able sales.  He,  and  his  family,  had  built  a  great, 
yes,  and  beneficial,  industry  by  ruthlessly  beating  out 
a  broad  and  broader  way  for  their  progress.  It  was 
needful  to  gaze  fixedly  at  the  end  desirable  and  move 
in  the  straightest  line  possible. 

Susan  stopped  by  the  way.     A  thousand  little  acts 

tM 


THE  FORGE 


of  alleviation,  at  best  temporary,  interrupted  her 
living.  Children,  not  hers,  dragged  at  her  skirt. 
How  much  better  for  her  to  have  a  child  of  her  own. 
Their  child!  A  great  deal  that  had  been  vague  in 
his  thoughts  became  concrete  at  that  last  period; 
not  only  the  possible  succession  of  the  iron,  but  the 
comprehension  that  a  child  now,  before  the  increasing 
sterility  of  multiplying  years,  would  be  an  image  of 
all  his  inmost  craving  and  which  must  else  be  lost. 
Eunice  was  different.  Pity,  mingled  with  a  rigid 
sense  of  his  duty  and  a  faint  accent  of  parenthood, 
comprehended  his  feeling  for  her.  He  stated  this 
to  himself  clearly,  admitting  what  delinquency  it 
carried.  It  was,  simply,  an  incontrovertible  fact; 
and  it  was  his  habit  to  meet  such  things  squarely.  A 
black  Penny,  he  had  no  impulse  to  see  existence  in 
imposed  sentimental  or  formally  moral  conceptions. 
From  all  this  he  returned  with  a  feeling  of  delight 
to  his  personal  longing  for  Susan  Brundon ;  he  saw 
her  bowed  over  the  table  in  an  exhaustion  almost  an 
attitude  of  surrender.  A  slender,  pliable  figure  in 
soft  merino  and  lace.  He  saw  her  beyond  the  candles 
of  Graham  Jannan's  supper  table,  a  rose  geranium 
at  her  breast.  The  motto  of  the  bon  bon  partially 
returned : 

".  .  .  ange  du  ciel  .  .  .  je  t'aimet 
M.  .  .  le  bon  heur  supreme!" 


235 


XIX 

IN  the  morning  he  walked  over  to  Stephen  Jan- 
nan's  office  on  Fourth  Street.  The  day  was 
unexpectedly  warm,  and  a  mist  rose  about  the 
wet  bricks  of  the  city.  He  proceeded  directly  into 
Stephen's  private  enclosure.  "  I  was  about  to  write 
you,"  the  latter  stated.  "  It's  well  enough  for  you 
to  direct  Mrs.  Scofield  to  confine  her  pleas  to  me, 
and  comparatively  simple  to  picture  her  drawing  a 
quarterly  sum  in  an  orderly  manner;  but  how  you 
are  going  to  realize  that  happy  conception  is  in- 
creasingly beyond  me.  I  have  to  point  out  to  her 
daily  —  a  great  nuisance  it  is  —  that  she  cannot 
have  her  income  before  it  is  due.  Heaven  knows 
what  she  has  done  with  the  other  money  in  so  short 
a  while.  She  hasn't  moved,  apparently  increased  her 
establishment;  at  your  direction  the  bills  were  set- 
tled, and  heaven  knows  she  had  no  reluctance  in  pre- 
senting all  that  were  permissible  and  a  number 
doubtful.  There  is,  of  course,  one  probability." 

Jasper  Penny's  thoughts  returned  to  the  slony, 
handsome  youth  he  had  seen  in  the  company  of 
Essie's  friends,  to  the  insinuations  of  the  woman  who 
had  been  removed  protesting  her  superiority  and 
warning  him  against  a  "  tailor's  dummy."  Well,  it 
was  no  longer  his  affair  what  Essie  did  with  her 
236 


THE  FORGE 


money,  what  in  her  affections  remained  unimpaired. 
Rather  it  was  reassuring  that  she  had  so  promptly 
found  solace;  it  enlarged  his  own  feeling  of  free- 
dom. "  It  got  worse,  yesterday,"  Stephen  Jannan 
continued ;  "  she  came  to  the  office,  insisted  on  seeing 
me.  Luckily  I  was  busy  with  a  mastership  that 
kept  me  over  three  hours.  But  she  left,  I  was  told, 
with  the  air  of  one  soon  to  return.  She  was  brandied 
with  purpose.  There  is  no  end,  Jasper,  to  what  I 
am  prepared  to  do  for  you;  but,  my  dear  fellow, 
neither  of  us  can  have  this.  She  wept.  My  young 
gentlemen  were  pierced  with  sympathetic  curiosity. 
You  must  realize,  Jasper,  that  you  are  not  a  spar- 
row, to  float  unnoticed  from  ledge  to  ledge." 

An  angry  impotence  seized  Jasper  Penny.  He 
was  tempted  to  have  Stephen  Jannan  turn  over  to 
Essie,  at  once,  a  conclusive  sum  of  money.  That 
would  put  an  end  to  any  communication  between 
them,  provide  her  with  the  power  of  self-gratification 
which  for  Essie  Scoficld  spelled  forgetfulness  .  .  . 
For  a  little,  he  was  obliged,  wearily,  to  add.  To- 
gether with  such  a  young  man  as  he  had  seen  in  her 
house  her  capacity  for  expenditure  would  be  limit- 
less. She  would  come  back  to  him  with  fresh  de- 
mands, perhaps  at  an  inconceivably  awkward  time, 
in  a  calculated  hysteria  —  he  had  cause  to  know  — 
surprisingly  loud  and  convincing.  Susan  must  be 
absolutely  secured  against  that  possibility.  He 
could  not  help  but  think  of  the  latter  as  yielding  in 
the  end,  married  to  him. 

237 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


He  gazed  at  Stephen  Jannan  in  a  sombre  perplex- 
ity. "  A  nuisance,"  the  other  nodded.  "  Only  time, 
I  suppose,  and  the  most  rigid  adherence  to  your 
statements  will  convince  the  lady  of  what  she  may  ex~ 
pect.  In  the  meanwhile,  frankly,  we  had  better  put 
it  in  some  other  hands ;  not  so  much  on  my  account 
as  your  own  —  the  sympathetic  young  gentlemen, 
you  see.  That  can  be  easily  arranged." 

Jasper  Penny  was  not  thinking  of  the  material 
Essie,  the  present,  concrete  problem ;  but  he  was  once 
more  absorbed  in  the  manner  in  which  her  influence 
followed,  apparently  shaped,  his  existence.  He  was 
again  appalled  by  the  vitality  of  the  past ;  the  phrase 
itself  was  an  error,  there  was  no  past.  All  that 
had  gone,  that  was  to  come,  met  ceaselessly  in  the 
present,  a  confusion  of  hope  and  regret.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  he  would  have  to  see  Essie  again,  and  ex- 
plain that  what  she  had  from  him  depended  entirely 
on  her  reciprocal  attitude.  This  could  only  be  sat- 
isfactory in  person.  He  would  go  to  her  at  once, 
to-day.  An  enormous  reluctance  to  enter  her  house 
again  possessed  him.  The  mere  act  had  the  aspect 
of  an  acknowledgment  of  her  continued  potency,  her 
influence  over  him.  He  put  it  off  as  long  as  possible, 
and  it  was  past  five  when  he  finally  walked  slowly 
toward  her  door. 

She  was  in;  and  he  saw,  on  the  hall  stand,  a  silk 
hat  and  overcoat  cut  in  an  extreme  of  current  fash- 
ion. The  servant  preceded  him  above,  toward  the 
room  usual  for  casual  gatherings;  and  he  heard  a 
238 


THE  FORGE 


sudden  low  murmur,  expostulation,  follow  the  an- 
nouncement of  his  name.  Essie  Scofield  appeared  at 
the  top  of  the  stairs.  "  Come  up,"  she  said  in  a 
hesitating,  sullen  voice.  He  mounted  without  reply. 
As  he  had  expected  Daniel  Culser  was  present,  and 
rose  to  greet  him  negligently,  from  a  lounging  atti- 
tude on  the  sofa.  His  coat,  cut  back  to  the  knees, 
was  relentlessly  tapered,  the  collar  enormously  rolled 
and  revered,  and  a  white  Marseilles  waistcoat  bore 
black  spots  as  large  as  a  Bolivian  half  dollar ;  while 
a  black  scarf,  it  was  called  the  Du  Casses,  fell  in  an 
avalanche  of  ruffles.  He  moved  toward  the  door, 
fitting  his  coat  carefully  about  his  slim  waist.  "  I'm 
away,  Essie,"  he  proclaimed. 

"When  will  you  come  again,  Daniel?"  she  asked 
with  an  oppressive  humility.  She  gazed  at  Jasper 
Penny  with  a  momentary  delay ;  then,  with  an  utter 
disregard  of  his  presence,  laid  her  hands  on  the 
younger  man's  shoulders.  "  Soon,"  she  begged. 
Obviously  ill  at  ease  he  abruptly  released  himself. 
"I  don't  care,"  she  cried  defiantly;  "I'll  tell  the 
whole  world  you  are  the  sweetest  man  in  it.  Jasper's 
nothing  to  me  nor  I  to  him.  And  I'm  not  afraid  of 
him,  of  what  he  might  threaten,  either.  Stay,  Dan- 
iel, and  you'll  see.  I  will  look  out  for  us,  Dan." 

Her  unexpected  frankness  was  inevitably  followed 
by  an  awkward  silence.  Daniel  Culser  finally  cursed 
below  his  breath,  avoiding  Jasper's  cold  inquiring 
gaze.  "  I'm  glad  I  said  it,"  Essie  proceeded ;  "  now 
he  knows  how  things  are."  She  went  up  again  to 

239 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


the  younger,  and  laid  a  clinging  arm  about  his  shoul- 
ders. "  I'm  mad  about  you,  Daniel,  you  know  it ; 
there's  nothing  I  wouldn't  do  for  you,  give  you  if  I 
could.  Isn't  he  beautiful  ?  "  she  f atulously  demanded 
of  Jasper  Penny. 

"  You  are  making  a  fool  of  yourself  and  me,"  the 
subject  of  her  adulation  roughly  declared.  He  re- 
moved her  arm  so  forcibly  that  the  scarlet  print  of 
his  fingers  was  visible  on  her  soft,  dead  white  skin. 
"  Probably  you  have  gone  and  spoiled  everything. 
And  remember  what  I  said.  I  am  a  man  of  my 
word." 

Jasper  Penny  dryly  thought  that  the  term  man 
was  singularly  inappropriate  in  any  connection  with 
the  meticulously  garbed  figure  before  him.  Essie 
would  have  a  difficult  time  with  that  stony  youth. 
She  regarded  him  with  eyes  of  idolatry,  drawing  her 
fingers  over  the  sleeve  impatiently  held  aside  from 
her  touch.  "  I'm  going,"  he  stated  once  more,  im- 
politely ;  but  she  barred  him  at  the  door.  "  I  want 
you  to  stay,"  she  cried  excitedly ;  "  hear  what  I  am 
going  to  say,  what  I  am  going  to  do  for  you."  She 
advanced  toward  Jasper  Penny.  "  I  asked  that  Jan- 
nan  for  more  money  because  I  had  given  Daniel  all 
I  had,  and  I  wanted  still  more,  to  give  him.  I'll  de- 
mand things  all  my  life  for  him;  everything  I  have 
is  his."  She  gasped,  at  the  verge  of  an  emotional 
outburst.  Her  heart  pounded  unsteadily  beneath 
an  adventitious  lace  covering;  her  face  was  leaden 
with  startling  daubs  of  vermilion  paint.  "  Give  me 
240 


THE  FORGE 


a  great  deal  of  money,  now,  at  once  ...  so  that  I 
can  go  to  Daniel  with  my  hands  full." 

"  That  is  why  I  came  here,"  Jasper  Penny  re- 
plied ;  "  to  tell  you  that  you  must  not  use  up  your 
income  at  once,  on  the  first  week,  almost,  of  its  pay- 
ment; because  you  will  be  able  to  get  no  more  until 
another  instalment  is  due.  I  haven't  the  slightest 
interest  in  where  your  money  goes,  it  is  absolutely 
your  own;  but  I  cannot  have  you  after  it  every 
second  day.  The  administration  will  be  put  in  a 
different  quarter,  rigidly  dispensed;  and  any  con- 
tinued inopportunities  will  only  result  in  difficulties 
for  yourself." 

She  cursed  him  in  a  gasping,  spent  breath.  Essie 
looked  ill,  he  thought.  Daniel  Culser,  listening  at 
the  door,  made  a  movement  to  leave,  but  the  woman 
prevented  him,  hanging  about  his  neck.  "  No !  No !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "  It  will  be  all  right,  I  can  get  it 
.  .  .  more.  Be  patient."  Jasper  Penny  walked 
stiffly  to  the  exit,  where  he  paused  at  the  point  of 
repeating  his  warning.  Essie  Scofield  was  lifting  a 
quivering,  tear-drenched  face  to  the  vexation  of  the 
fashionable  youth.  He  was  attempting  to  repulse 
her,  but  she  held  him  with  a  desperation  of  feeling. 
The  elder  descended  the  stairs  without  further 
speech. 

Outside,  the  warmth  of  the  day  had  continued  into 
dusk.  The  mist  had  thickened,  above  which,  in  a 
momentary  rift,  he  could  see  the  stars  swimming  in 
removed  constellations.  He  was  wrapped  in  an  utter 

241 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


loathing  of  the  scene  through  which  he  had  passed, 
his  undeniable  part  in  it.  It  was  all  hideous  beyond 
words.  His  late  need,  his  sense  of  void  and  illimit- 
able longing,  tormented  him  ceaselessly.  He  was 
sick  with  rebellion  against  life,  an  affair  of  cunning 
traps  and  mud  and  fog.  Above  the  obscured  and 
huddled  odium  of  the  city  the  distances  were  clear, 
serene.  Above  the  degradation  .  .  .  Susan.  A 
tyrannical  desire  to  see  her  possessed  him,  an  abso- 
lute necessity  for  the  purification  of  her  mere  pres- 
ence. Unconsciously  he  quickened  his  step,  charged 
with  purpose;  but  he  couldn't  go  to  the  Academy 
now;  it  was  six  o'clock.  He  must  delay  an  hour  at 
least.  Habit  prompted  him  to  a  supper  which  he 
left  untried  on  its  plates,  the  lighting  of  a  cigar, 
quickly  cold,  forgot.  At  seven  he  hurried  resolutely 
over  the  dark  streets  with  the  dim  luminosity  of  oc- 
casional gas  lamps  floating  on  the  unstirring  white 
gloom.  The  bricks  under  foot  were  soggy,  and  the 
curved  sign  above  her  entrance,  the  bare  willows, 
dropped  a  pattering  moisture. 

She  saw  him  immediately,  not  in  the  familiar  office, 
but  in  a  hall  laid  with  cold  matting  and  nearly  filled 
by  a  stairway,  lit  with  a  lamp  at  the  further  end. 
"  I  am  sorry,"  she  told  him ;  "  I  have  no  place  to 
take  you.  The  rhetoric  mistress  is  correcting 
papers  there,"  she  indicated  the  shut  door.  He 
made  no  immediate  answer,  content  to  gaze  at  her 
sensitive,  appealing  countenance.  "  It  is  so  warm," 
she  said  finally,  colouring  at  his  intentness,  "  and  I 
242 


THE  FORGE 


have  been  indoors  all  day.  I  might  get  my  things. 
We  could,  perhaps  ...  a  walk,"  she  spoke  rapidly, 
her  head  bent  from  him.  She  drew  back,  then  hesi- 
tated. "  Very  well,"  he  replied.  Susan  disap- 
peared, but  she  quickly  returned,  in  a  little  violet 
bonnet  bound  and  tied  with  black,  and  a  dark  azure 
velvet  cloak  furred  at  her  wrists  and  throat.  She 
held  a  muff  doubtfully ;  but,  in  the  end,  took  it  with 
her. 

Outside,  the  mist  and  night  enveloped  them  in  a 
close,  damp  veil.  They  turned  silently  to  the  right, 
passing  the  narrow  mouth  of  Currant  Alley,  and 
Quince  Street  beyond.  The  bricks  became  preca- 
rious, and  gave  place  to  a  walk  of  boards  ;  the  corners 
about  a  broad,  muddy  way  were  built  up ;  but  farther 
on  the  dwellings  were  scattered  —  lighted  windows 
showed  dimly  behind  bare  catalpas,  iron  fences  en- 
closed orderly  patches  between  sodden  flats,  gas 
lamps  grew  fewer. 

A  deep,  all-pervading  contentment  surrounded 
Jasper  Penny,  an  unreasoning,  happy  warmth.  He 
said  nothing,  his  stick  now  striking  on  the  boards, 
now  sinking  into  earth,  and  gazed  down  at  Susan, 
her  face  hid  by  the  rim  of  her  bonnet.  This  com- 
panionship was  the  best,  all,  that  life  had  to  offer. 
He  felt  no  need  to  importune  her  about  the  future, 
their  marriage;  curiously  it  seemed  as  though  they 
had  been  married,  and  were  walking  in  the  security, 
the  peace,  of  a  valid  and  enduring  bond.  There 
was  no  necessity  for  talk,  laborious  explanation, 

243 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


periods  infinitely  more  empty  than  this  silence. 
They  walked  as  close  to  each  other  as  her  skirt 
would  permit ;  and  at  times  her  muff,  swinging  on  a 
wrist,  would  brush  softly  against  him.  How 
strangely  different  the  actual  values  of  existence 
were  from  the  emphasized,  trite  moments  and  emo- 
tions. In  the  middle  of  his  life,  at  the  point  of  his 
greatest  capability  for  experience,  his  most  tran- 
scendent happiness  came  from  the  present,  the  de- 
liberate, unquestioning  walk  with  Susan,  the  aimless 
progress  through  an  invisible  city  and  under  a 
masked  clear  heaven  of  stars.  No  remembered  thrill 
compared  with  it,  reached  the  same  height,  achieved 
a  similar  dignity  of  consummation. 

The  way  became  more  uneven ;  low  clustered  sheds 
rose  out  of  the  darkness  against  a  deeper  black  be- 
yond, and  they  came  to  the  river.  The  bank  was 
marshy,  but  a  track  of  pounded  oyster  shells,  visible 
against  the  mud,  led  to  a  wharf  extending  into  the 
solid,  voiceless  flow  of  the  water.  Jasper  Penny 
stood  with  Susan  gazing  into  the  blanketing  gloom. 
A  wan,  disintegrated  radiance  shone  from  a  riding 
light  in  the  rigging  of  a  vessel,  and  a  passing  warm 
blur  flattened  over  the  wet  deck  as  a  lantern  was 
carried  forward.  No  other  lights,  and  no  move- 
ment, rose  from  the  river;  no  sound  was  audible  at 
their  back.  The  city,  from  the  evidence  of  Jasper 
Penny's  sensibilities,  did  not  exist;  it  had  fallen  out 
of  his  consciousness;  suddenly  its  bricked  miles,  its 
involved  life  stilled  or  hectic,  stealthy  in  the  dark, 
244 


THE  FORGE 


seemed  a  thing  temporary,  adventitious ;  he  had  an 
extraordinary  feeling  of  sharing  in  a  permanence,  a 
continuity,  outlasting  stone,  iron,  human  tradition. 
He  had  been  swept,  he  thought,  into  a  movement 
where  centuries  were  but  the  fretful  ticking  of  sec- 
onds. "  Outside  death,"  he  said  fantastically,  un- 
consciously aloud.  A  remarkable  sentence  recurred 
to  him,  the  most  profound,  he  told  himself,  ever  writ- 
ten :  "  Before  he  was  I  am."  Its  vast  implications 
easily  evaded  his  finite  mind,  just  as  the  essence  of 
his  present  rapture  —  it  was  no  less  —  lay  beyond 
his  grasp.  He  lingered  over  it ;  gave  it  up  ...  re- 
turned to  Susan. 

"  Wonderful,"  she  said  gravely,  with  a  compre- 
hensive wave  of  her  muff.  And  her  simplicity 
thrilled  him  the  more  with  the  knowledge  that  she 
shared  his  feeling.  She  drew  up  the  fur  collar  of 
her  cloak,  shivered;  and,  in  the  wordless  harmony 
that  pervaded  them,  they  turned  and  retraced  their 
way. 

The  rhetoric  mistress  had  left  the  office  with  a 
low  turned  lamp,  and  Jasper  Penny  stopped,  taking 
the  furred  wrap  from  Susan's  shoulders.  She  slowly 
untied  the  velvet  strings  of  her  bonnet,  and  laid  it 
on  the  table.  She  extended  her  hands  toward  him, 
and,  taking  their  cool  slightness,  he  drew  her  to  him. 
She  rested  with  the  fragrance  of  her  cheek  against 
his  face,  with  her  hands  pressed  to  his  breast.  They 
stood  motionless ;  he  closed  his  eyes,  and  she  was  gone. 
He  was  confused  in  the  dimness  empty  except  for  him- 

245 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


self,  and  fumbled  with  his  gloves.  Susan's  wrap  lay 
limply  over  a  chair;  the  damp  bonnet  ribbons  trailed 
toward  the  floor.  He  looked  slowly  about,  noting 
every  object  —  a  pile  of  folded  yellow  papers,  the 
stove,  the  globe  bearing  a  quiver  of  light  on  its  var- 
nished surface. 

The  willow  trees  and  board  above  the  entrance 
were  dripping  ceaselessly;  the  lights  of  the  city,  in- 
creasing at  its  centre,  like  the  discs  of  floating  sun- 
flowers. If  he  slept  he  was  unaware  of  it,  the  magic 
joy  so  equally  penetrated  his  waking  and  sub- 
conscious hours,  the  feeling  of  an  elevation  higher 
than  years  and  mountains  was  so  strong.  The  morn- 
ing, he  found,  was  again  cold,  and  clear.  He  must 
go  out  to  Jaffa,  where  new  blast  machines  demanded 
attention;  but,  the  day  after  — 

His  thoughts  were  broken  by  a  sharp  rap  on  the 
outer  door.  Mr.  Stephen  Jannan  was  below,  and 
demanded  to  see  him  immediately.  Stephen's  ap- 
pearance at  the  hotel  at  that  early  hour,  he  recog- 
nized, was  unusual.  But  a  glance  at  his  cousin's 
serious  aspect  showed  him  at  once  that  the  reason 
was  urgent.  Stephen  Jannan,  as  customary,  was 
particularly  garbed;  and  yet  he  had  an  expression 
of  haste,  disturbance.  He  said  at  once,  in  the  bed- 
room where  Jasper  Penny  was  folding  his  scarf, 

"  That  young  waster,  Culser,  Daniel  Culser,  was 
shot  and  killed  in  Mrs.  Scofield's  house  last  evening." 

The  ends  of  the  scarf  fell  neglected  over  the  soft, 
246 


THE  FORGE 


cambric  frills  of  his  shirt.  Jasper  Penny  swallowed 
dryly.  "  At  what  time?  "  he  asked. 

"  He  was  seen  in  the  Old  White  Bear  Tavern  at 
about  seven,  then  apparently  he  went  back  to  the 
woman's.  The  servant  said  he  found  the  body  at 
something  past  nine,  and  that  there  had  been  no 
other  caller  but  yourself." 

His  hearer  expressed  a  deep,  involuntary  relief. 
"  I  was  there  late  in  the  afternoon,"  he  acknowl- 
edged ;  "  but  I  left  around  six."  Stephen  Jannan, 
too,  showed  a  sudden  relaxation.  "  I  have  already 
sent  a  message  to  the  Mayor,"  he  continued ;  "  con- 
fident that  you  would  clear  yourself  without  delay. 
Mrs.  Scofield's  history  is,  of  course,  known  to  the 
police.  You  have  only  to  establish  your  alibi;  she, 
Essie  Scofield,  can't  be  found  for  the  moment.  She 
may  have  taken  an  early  stage  out  of  the  city;  but 
it  is  probable  that  she  has  only  moved  into  another 
police  district.  Just  where  were  you,  Jasper?  " 

The  latter  said  stupidly,  "  Walking  with  Susan 
Brundon." 

A  swiftly  augmented  concern  gathered  on  Stephen 
Jannan's  countenance.  "  You  were  walking  with 
Susan,"  he  repeated  increduously.  "  Yes,"  Jasper 
asserted,  with  a  sharp  inner  dread.  "  You  don't 
know,  but  I  want  to  marry  her."  Stephen  Jannan 
faced  him  with  an  exclamation  of  anger.  "  You 
want  to  marry  her,  and,  in  consequence,  drag  her, 
Susan,  into  the  dirtiest  affair  the  city  is  like  to  know 

247 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


for  years.  Susan  Brundon,  with  her  Academy;  all 
she  has,  all  her  labour,  destroyed,  ruined,  pulled  to 
pieces  by  slanderous  tongues!  By  God,  Jasper, 
what  a  beast  you  look!  The  most  delicate  woman 
alive,  the  one  farthest  from  just  this  sort  of  muck, 
being  sworn  in  the  Mayor's  office,  testifying  in  an 
obscene  murder  case,  before  the  Sheriff  and  Consta- 
ble, and  heaven  knows  what  police  and  vilely  curi- 
ous!" 

A  sickening  feeling  of  utter  destruction  seized  on 
Jasper  Penny,  a  dropping  of  his  entire  being  from 
the  heights  of  yesterday  to  the  last  degradation. 
He  felt  the  blood  leave  his  heart  and  pound  dizzily 
in  his  brain,  and  then  recede,  followed  by  an  icy  cold- 
ness, a  wavering  of  the  commonplace  objects  of  the 
room.  He  raised  his  fingers  to  his  collar,  stared 
with  burning  eyes  at  Stephen  Jannan.  "  Every- 
thing spoiled,"  the  latter  said  again ;  "  her  pupils 
will  positively  be  taken  from  her  at  once  by  all  the 
nice  females.  Her  name  will  be  pronounced,  smiled 
over,  in  every  despicable  quarter  of  the  city,  printed 
in  the  daily  sheets.  I  —  I  can't  forgive  you  for  this. 
Susan,  our  especial  joy!" 

Jasper  Penny  saw  in  a  flash,  as  vivid  and  remorse- 
less as  a  stab  of  lightning,  that  this  was  all  true. 
The  fatality  of  the  past,  sweeping  forward  in  a 
black,  strangling  tide,  had  overtaken  not  only  him- 
self but  Susan,  too;  Susan,  in  soft  merino,  in  an 
azure  velvet  cloak ;  her  face  against  his.  "  I  shall 
go  away  at  once,"  he  said  hoarsely.  "  I'll  never  ap- 
248 


THE  FORGE 


pear,  and  they  can  think  what  they  will.  Then  there 
will  be  no  necessity  for  her  to  come  forward.  She 
shall  be  spared  that,  no  matter  what  it  costs." 

"  Romantic  and  youthful  folly,"  Jannan  declared ; 
"  loud-sounding  and  useless.  How  little  you  under- 
stand Susan  —  immediately  it  is  known  Culser  was 
killed  between  seven  and  nine,  whether  you  stay  or 
go,  she  will  come  forward  with  the  truth,  free  you 
from  any  suspicion.  I  tell  you  every  detail  will  be 
canvassed,  familiar  to  the  boys  on  the  street.  A 
man  important  as  yourself,  with  all  your  industries 
and  money,  and  such  salacity,  together  with  Susan 
Brundon,  will  make  a  pretty  story.  If  I  had  a 
chance,  Jasper,  I'm  almost  certain  I'd  sacrifice  you 
without  a  quiver.  How  could  you?  Susan  Brun- 
don! Never  telling  her — " 

"  On  the  contrary,  she  knew  everything.  I  am  not 
so  low  as  you  seem  to  think." 

"  That  has  no  importance  now !  "  Stephen  Jannan 
exclaimed  impatiently.  "  All  that  matters  is  to 
make  it  as  easy  as  possible  for  her.  I  have,  I  think, 
enough  position,  influence,  to  keep  the  dregs  out. 
But  there  will  be  enough  present,  even  then.  Dam- 
nable insinuations,  winks,  cross-questioning." 

His  excitement  faded  before  the  exigencies  of  the 
unavoidable  situation ;  he  became  cold,  logical,  legal. 
Jasper  Penny  listened,  standing,  to  his  instructions, 
the  exact  forecasting  of  every  move  probable  at  the 
hearing  in  the  Mayor's  chamber.  "  After  that," 
Stephen  added,  "  we  can  face  the  problem  of  Susan's 

249 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


future.  She  thinks  tremendously  of  her  school.  It 
will  fall  to  pieces  in  her  hands.  There  can  be  no 
question  of  material  assistance;  refused  her  own 
brother. 

"  Now,  understand  —  stay  in  these  rooms  until  I 
send  for  you.  See  no  one.  I'll  get  on,  go  to  Susan. 
The  thing  itself  should  be  short;  her  character  will 
assist  you  there.  What  a  mess  you  have  made  of 
living,  Jasper." 


950 


XX 

IN  the  silence  of  the  sitting  room  Jasper  Penny 
heard  diverse  and  yet  mingled  inner  voices: 
Essie's  younger,  exuberant  periods,  her  joy  at 
presents  of  gold  and  jewelled  trifles;  changing,  ris- 
ing shrilly,  to  her  last  imploring  sobs,  her  frantic 
embrace  of  the  man  that,  beyond  any  doubt,  she  had 
herself  killed.  Running  through  this  were  the  strains 
of  a  quadrille,  the  light  sliding  of  dancing  feet,  and 
the  sound  of  a  low,  diffident  voice,  Susan  Brundon 
at  the  Jannans'  ball.  The  voice  continued,  in  a  dif- 
ferent surrounding,  and  woven  about  it  was  the  thin 
complaint  of  a  child,  of  Eunice,  taken  against  her 
will  from  the  Academy.  These  three,  Essie  and 
Susan  and  Eunice,  combined,  now  one  rising  above 
the  other,  yet  inexplicably,  always,  the  same.  Back 
of  them  were  other,  less  poignant,  echoes,  flashes  of 
place,  impressions  of  associated  heat  or  cold,  dark- 
ness or  light: 

He  saw  the  features  of  Howat  Penny,  in  the  can- 
vas by  Gustavus  Hesselius,  regarding  him  out  of  a 
lost  youth;  he  recalled,  and  again  experienced,  the 
sense  of  Howat's  nearness;  integral  with  himself; 
merging  into  his  own  youth,  no  less  surely  lost,  yet 
enduring.  His  mother  joined  the  immaterial  com- 

251 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


pany,  accents,  rigid  with  pride  in  him.  And  pene- 
trating, binding,  all  was  the  dull  beat  of  the  trip 
hammer  at  Myrtle  Forge.  He  had  mechanically  fin- 
ished dressing,  and  stood  absently  twisting  the  drap- 
ery at  a  window.  A  fine  tracery  of  lines  had  sud- 
denly appeared  about  his  eyes;  the  cold  rays  of  the 
winter  sun,  streaming  over  his  erect  figure,  accentu- 
ated the  patches  of  grey  plentiful  in  his  hair. 

He  saw,  on  the  street  below,  a  parade  of  firemen, 
in  scarlet  tunics  and  brass  helmets,  dragging  a  glit- 
tering engine.  The  men  walked  evenly  abreast,  at 
cross  ropes.  A  leader  blew  a  brilliant  fanfare  on 
an  embossed,  silver  horn.  Women  passed,  foreshort- 
ened into  circular  bells  of  colour,  draped  with  gay 
pelerines  and  rich  India  shawls.  He  saw  all  and 
nothing.  The  horn  of  the  firemen  sounded  without 
meaning  on  his  distracted  hearing.  The  flood  of  his 
suffering  rose  darkly,  oppressing  his  heart,  choking 
his  breath.  Perhaps  if,  as  he  had  desired,  he  had 
gone  away,  Susan  would  be  spared.  But  Stephen 
was  right ;  nothing  could  keep  her  from  the  pro- 
nouncement of  the  words  that  would  free  him  and 
bind  herself  in  intolerable  ill.  Her  uprightness  was 
terrible.  It  would  take  her  fearful  but  determined 
into  the  pits  of  any  hell.  His  hands  slowly  clenched, 
his  muscles  tightened,  in  a  spasm  of  anguish.  God, 
why  hadn't  he  recognized  the  desperation  in  Essie's 
quivering  face !  It  would  have  been  already  too  late, 
he  added  in  thought ;  it  went  back,  back  — 

A  knock  sounded  discreetly  on  the  door;  and, 
252 


THE  FORGE 


opening  it,  he  saw  a  young  man,  remembered  as  a  law 
student  in  Stephen's  office.  "  They  are  ready  for 
you,  sir,  at  the  City  Hall,"  he  stated,  in  an  over- 
emphasized, professional  calm. 


253 


XXI 

THE  restrained  curiosity  and  inaudible  com- 
ments which  greeted  his  passage  through 
the  lower  floor  of  the  hotel  gave  place  to  a 
livelier  interest  when  he  was  readily  recognized  on 
the  street.  The  news  of  the  murder  had,  evidently, 
already  become  city  property.  He  was  indicated 
to  individuals  unaware  of  his  identity,  with  a  rapid 
sketch  of  the  crime,  of  fabulous  ascribed  possessions, 
and  hinted  oriental  indulgence.  He  strode  on  rap- 
idly, his  shoulders  squared,  his  expression  con- 
temptuous, challenging;  but  within  he  was  possessed 
by  an  apprehension  increasing  at  every  step.  It 
was  not,  fortunately,  far  from  Sanderson's  Hotel 
to  the  City  Hall;  west  on  Chestnut  Street  they 
reached  their  destination  at  the  following  corner. 
The  loungers  from  the  trees  before  the  State  House 
had  gathered,  with  an  increasing  mob  aware  of  the 
hearing  within,  at  the  entrance  to  the  municipal 
offices.  The  windows  on  either  side  of  the  marble 
steps  were  crowded  with  faces,  ribald  or  blank  or 
censorious,  and  Jasper  Penny  had  to  force  his  way 
into  the  building.  He  tried  to  recall  if  there  was 
another,  more  private,  ingress,  through  which  Susan 
might  be  taken;  but  his  thoughts  evaded  every  dis- 
254 


THE  FORGE 


cipline;  they  whirled  in  a  feverish  course  about  the 
sole  fact  of  the  public  degradation  he  had  brought 
on  Susan  Brundon.  They  passed  the  doors  of  civic 
departments,  he  saw  their  signs  —  Water,  City 
Treasurer,  and  then  entered  the  Mayor's  chamber. 

The  latter  was  seated  at  a  table  facing  the  room 
with  his  back  to  a  wide  window,  opening  on  the 
blank  brick  wall  of  the  Philosophical  Society  build- 
ing; and  at  one  side  the  High  Constable  of  the  dis- 
trict in  which  the  murder  had  been  committed  was 
conversing  with  the  Sheriff.  Beside  them,  Jasper 
Penny  saw,  there  were  only  some  clerks  present  and 
three  policemen.  The  Mayor  spoke  equably  to  the 
Ironmaster,  directed  a  chair  placed  for  his  con- 
venience, and  resumed  the  inspection  of  a  number  of 
reports.  He  had  a  gaunt,  tight-lipped  face  framed 
in  luxuriant  whiskers,  a  severely  moral  aspect  oddly 
contradicted  by  trousers  of  tremendous  sporting 
plaid,  a  waistcoat  of  green  buckskin  cassimere,  while 
his  silk  hat  held  a  rakish,  forward  angle.  The  Con- 
stable and  Sheriff  punctuated  their  converse  by  pro- 
digious and  dexterous  spitting  into  a  dangerously 
far  receptacle,  and  the  clerks  and  police  murmured 
together.  The  Mayor,  finally  glancing  at  a  watch 
enamelled,  Jasper  Penny  saw,  with  a  fay  of  the  bal- 
let, spoke  to  the  room  in  general.  "  Ten  and  past. 
Well!  Well!  Where  are  the  others?  Who  is  to 
come  still,  Hoffernan?" 

"  Mr.  Jannan,  sir ;  and  a  witness,"  a  clerk  an- 
swered. The  other  gazed  at  the  paper  before  him. 

255 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


"  Susan  Brundon,"  he  read  in  a  loud,  uncompromis- 
ing tone.  Jasper  Penny's  eyes  narrowed  belliger- 
ently; he  would  see  that  these  pothouse  politicians 
gave  Susan  every  consideration  possible.  He  was, 
with  Stephen,  a  far  from  negligible  force  in  the  city 
elections.  "  School  mistress,"  the  Mayor  read  on. 
"  Never  heard  of  her  or  her  school.  Ah  — "  Ste- 
phen Jannan  had  entered  with  Susan. 

Jasper  rose  as  she  came  forward,  and  the  Mayor 
had  the  grace  to  remove  his  hat.  She  wore,  he  saw, 
the  familiar  dress  of  wool,  with  a  sober,  fringed 
black  silk  mantle,  black  gloves  and  an  inconspicuous 
bonnet.  She  met  his  harried  gaze,  and  smiled;  but 
beneath  her  greeting  he  was  aware  of  a  supreme 
tension.  There  was,  however,  no  perceptible  nerv- 
ousness in  the  manner  of  her  accepting  an  indicated 
place;  she  sat  with  her  hands  quietly  folded  in  her 
lap,  the  mantle  drooping  back  over  the  chair.  Ste- 
phen Jannan,  facing  the  Mayor,  made  a  concise 
statement  in  a  cold,  deliberate  voice.  "  I  now  pro- 
pose to  show  your  honour,"  he  finished,  "  that,  be- 
tween the  hours  in  which  Daniel  Culser  is  said  to 
have  been  shot  to  death,  my  client  was  peacefully 
in  the  company  of  Miss  Brundon,  strolling  in  an 
opposite  quarter  of  the  city." 

"  Hoffernan,"  the  Mayor  pronounced,  waving  to- 
ward the  seated  woman.  The  clerk  advanced  with  a 
Bible;  and,  rising,  Susan  followed  the  words  of  the 
oath  in  a  low,  clear  voice.  To  Jasper  Penny  the 
occasion  geemed  intolerably  prolonged,  filled  with 
256 


THE  FORGE 


needless  detail.  Never  had  Susan  Brundon  ap- 
peared more  utterly  desirable,  never  had  his  need 
to  protect,  shield,  her  been  stronger.  He  —  pro- 
tect her,  he  added  bitterly;  rather  he  had  betrayed 
her,  dragged  her  immaculate  sweetness  down  into  the 
foul  atmosphere  of  a  criminal  hearing.  His  atten- 
tion, fastening  on  the  trivialities  of  the  interior,  re- 
moved him  in  a  species  of  self-hypnotism  from  the 
actualities  of  the  scene.  He  heard,  as  if  from  a  dis- 
tance, the  questioning  of  the  Mayor,  "  At  what  time, 
exactly,  did  you  say?  How  did  you  know  that?" 
Susan  said,  "  I  saw  the  clock  at  the  back  of  the  hall. 
I  noticed  it  because  I  wondered  if  the  younger  chil- 
dren had  retired." 

"You  say  you  walked  with  Mr.  Penny  —  where? 
.  .  .  How  long  did  you  remain  at  the  river?  No 
way  of  knowing.  Seemed  surprisingly  short,  I'll 
venture."  Why  didn't  Stephen  put  an  end  to  such 
ill-timed  jocularity?  "And  Mr.  Penny  had  spoken 
to  you  of  his  —  his  relations  with  Mrs.  Scofield,  the 
woman  in  whose  house  Culser  was  killed.  Did  he 
refer  to  her  on  this  particular  evening,  standing  by 
the  river's  brink?  "  Susan  replied  in  the  negative. 
"  Did  he  seem  ill  at  ease,  worried  about  anything? 
Was  he  hurried  in  manner?" 

To  all  of  this  Susan  Brundon  answered  no,  in  a 
voice  that  constantly  grew  lower,  but  which  never 
faltered,  hesitated.  The  Mayor  turned  aside  for 
a  whispered  consultation  with  the  High  Constable. 
The  former  nodded.  "  Have  you  any  —  shall  we 

357 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


say  —  proprietary  interest  in  Mr.  Penny's  af- 
fairs ?  "  Her  reply  was  hardly  audible  in  the  room 
stilled  for  what  might  be  revealed.  "  No,"  she 
breathed,  her  gloved  fingers  interlacing.  Jasper 
Penny's  lips  were  drawn  in  a  hard  line;  Stephen 
gazed  fixedly  at  the  floor.  The  Mayor  gesticulated 
affably  toward  the  lawyer.  "That'll  do,"  he  de- 
clared. "  Pleasure,  Mr.  Penny,  to  have  you  so  com- 
pletely cleared.  I  shall  have  to  demand  your  assist- 
ance further,  though  —  knowledge  of  Mrs.  Scofield. 
And,  in  the  case  of  her  apprehension  and  trial,  you 
will,  of  course,  be  called.  Communication  will  be 
made  through  Mr.  Jannan.  No  doubt  in  our  mind 
now  of  the  facts."  A  policeman  opened  the  door 
and  a  surge  of  the  curious  pressed  in.  "  Take  her 
away,"  Jasper  Penny  whispered  to  Jannan ;  "  this 
is  damnable." 

Susan  rose,  gathering  up  her  mantle,  and  moved 
to  Stephen  Jannan's  side.  He  offered  his  arm  with 
a  formal  courtesy,  and  together  they  made  their 
way  out  through  the  corridor.  Jasper,  lost  in  a 
moody  abstraction,  waited  until  they  had  vanished; 
and  then,  with  a  lowered  head,  walked  rapidly  over 
Chestnut  Street  in  the  direction  of  the  terminus  of 
the  railroad  for  Jaffa.  A  brigade  of  cars  was  made 
up ;  he  took  a  place  and  was  immediately  dragged  on 
and  over  the  viaduct  to  the  plane  and  waiting  engine 
beyond.  He  could  see,  from  the  demeanour  of  the 
loungers  on  the  Jaffa  platform,  that  the  news  of  the 
murder,  his  connection  with  it,  had  preceded  him. 
258 


THE  FORGE 


To-morrow's  papers  would  provide  them  with  full 
accounts,  the  name  of  Susan  Brundon  among  the 
maculate  details.  .  .  .  The  meanest  cast  boy  in  his 
works  would  regard  him,  the  knowledge  of  Essie, 
with  a  leer. 

His  mother  was  at  the  main  door  of  Myrtle  Forge, 
pale  but  composed.  "  Take  Mr.  Penny's  overcoat," 
she  brusquely  directed  a  servant.  He  had  never 
seen  a  more  delectable  supper  than  the  one  awaiting 
him ;  and  he  tasted  most  of  what  found  its  way  to  his 
plate  —  he  owed  that  to  the  maternal  solicitude  se- 
cretly regarding  him,  hastily  masked  as  he  met  his 
mother's  gaze.  Sitting  later  in  accustomed  formal- 
ity the  dulness  of  a  species  of  relief  folded  him. 
The  minor  sounds  of  his  home,  the  deliberate  loud- 
ness  of  an  old  clock,  the  minute  warring  of  his  moth- 
er's bone  needles,  her  sister's  fits  of  coughing,  pain- 
fully restrained,  soothed  his  harried  being;  sub- 
jected to  an  intolerable  strain  his  overwrought 
nerves  had  suddenly  relaxed ;  he  sank  back  in  a  loose, 
almost  somnolent,  state.  A  mental  indolence  pos- 
sessed him ;  the  keen  incentives  of  life  appeared  far, 
unimportant,  his  late  rebellions  and  desires  inex- 
plicable. Even  the  iron  was  a  heavy  load ;  the  neces- 
sity of  constantly  meeting  new  conditions  with  new 
processes,  of  uprooting  month  by  month  most  with 
which  the  years  had  made  him  familiar,  seemed  be- 
yond his  power. 

A  faint  dread  crept  into  his  consciousness;  he 
roused  himself  sharply,  straightened  his  shoulders, 

259 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


glanced  about  to  see  if  his  tacit  surrender  had  been 
noticed  —  this  lassitude  creeping  over  him,  the  in- 
difference, was,  at  last,  the  edge  of  the  authentic 
shadow  of  age,  of  decay ;  it  was  the  deadening  of  the 
sensibilities  preceding  death.  He  banished  it  imme- 
diately, and  all  his  desire,  his  need,  his  sense  of  the 
horror  of  the  past  day,  surged  back,  reanimated  him, 
sent  the  blood  strongly  to  its  furthest  confines.  But, 
none  the  less,  a  vague,  disturbing  memory  of  the  other 
lingered  at  the  back  of  his  perceptions  ;  he  had  a  fresh 
realization  of  the  necessity  for  him  to  make  haste, 
to  take  at  once  —  before  the  hateful  anodyne  of 
time  had  betrayed  his  vigour  —  what  life  still,  and 
so  fully,  held. 

His  desire  for  Susan  increased  to  an  intensity 
robbing  it  of  a  greater  part  of  the  early  joy ;  it  had, 
now,  a  fretful  aspect  drawing  him  into  long  and 
painfully  minute  rehearsals  of  his  every  contact  with 
her,  and  of  the  disgraceful  publicity  brought  upon 
her  by  his  past.  At  the  usual  hour  the  hot  wine 
appeared;  the  glassful  was  pressed  on  Amity  Mer- 
ken;  his  mother  drank  hers  with  the  familiar,  audi- 
ble satisfaction.  An  old  custom,  an  old  compound, 
brought  from  Germany  many  years  ago,  binding,  in 
its  petty  immortality,  distant  times,  places,  beings. 
He  saw  that  his  mother  was  noticeably  less  able 
than  she  had  been  the  week  before;  her  hands  fum- 
bled at  her  knitting,  shook  holding  the  glass.  Her 
lined  face  quivered  as  she  said  good  night.  He  bent 
and  kissed  a  hot,  dry  brow,  conscious  of  the 
260 


THE  FORGE 


blanched  skull  under  her  fading  colour,  her  ebbing 
warmth.  He  had  done  this,  too  —  hastened  her 
death;  she  must  have  suffered  inordinately  in  her 
prideful  affection.  She  said  nothing,  beyond  the 
repeated  admonition  that  he  must  not  sit  up  into 
the  night. 

The  next  day  he  forced  himself  to  read  to  the  end 
the  report  of  the  murder  in  the  Gazette.  The  ref- 
erences to  Susan  Brundon  were  as  scant  as,  evidently, 
Stephen  Jannan  could  arrange;  but  her  name,  her 
Academy,  were  invested  with  an  odious  publicity. 
Jasper  Penny  saw  again  that  he  was  a  person  of 
moment ;  his  part  in  the  affair  gave  it  a  greatly  aug- 
mented importance.  Yet  now  the  worst,  he  told 
himself,  was  at  an  end ;  the  publicity  would  recede ; 
after  a  decent  interval  he  could  see  Susan. 

This  mood  was  interrupted  by  an  imperative  com- 
munication from  Stephen  —  he  must  be  in  the  oth- 
er's office  at  eleven  o'clock  to-morrow.  Nothing 
more  definite  was  said;  but  Jasper  Penny  was  not 
wholly  surprised  to  see  Essie  Scofield  huddled  in  a 
chair  at  the  lawyer's  table.  She  had  made  an  at- 
tempt at  the  bravado  of  apparel,  but  it  had  evi- 
dently failed  midway ;  her  hair  hung  loosely  about  a 
damp  brow,  the  strings  of  her  bonnet  were  in  dis- 
array, a  shawl  partially  hid  a  bodice  wrongly  fas- 
tened. Her  face  was  apathetic,  with  leaden  shad- 
ows and  dark  lips  ceaselessly  twisting,  now  drawn 
into  a  petulant  line,  now  drooping  in  childish  impo- 
tence. She  glanced  at  him  fleetly  as  he  entered,  but 

261 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


said  nothing.  Robbed  of  the  pretensions  of  pride, 
stripped  of  feminine  subterfuge,  she  was  appalling. 
He  involuntarily  recalled  the  Essie  who  had  swept 
him  into  a  riot  of  emotion  —  a  vivid  and  palpitating 
creature  radiating  the  exuberance  of  careless  health 
and  youth.  She  could  not,  he  calculated,  be  beyond 
thirty-seven  now.  He  abruptly  ceased  his  specu- 
lation, turned  from  her,  with  a  feeling  of  impropri- 
ety. Stephen  Jannan  said  shortly: 

"  Al  Schimpf  will  be  here.  It  seemed  to  me  he 
was  the  best  man  to  retain.  It's  obvious  that  I 
can't  defend  her.  You  will,  of  course,  require  every- 
thing possible  done»"  Essie  Scofield  shivered.  "  I 
don't  want  to  go  into  court,"  she  articulated,  "  and 
answer  all  the  dreadful  questions."  There  was  a 
stir  without,  and  a  hugely  fat  man  in  a  black  cape 
fastened  with  a  silver  chain  and  velvet  collar  entered. 
Al  Schimpf's  face  was  so  burdened  with  rolling  chins 
that  he  disregarded  the  customary  fashion  of  whis- 
kers, but  a  grizzled  moustache  lay  above  his  well- 
formed  lips,  and  an  imperial  divided  his  heavy,  ag- 
gressive chin.  He  was,  evidently,  fully  informed  of 
the  case  before  him ;  for,  after  saluting  Jannan  and 
Jasper  Penny,  he  seated  himself  directly  before 
Essie  Scofield,  fastening  upon  her  an  unwavering, 
glacial  gaze. 

"  Now,    pay    attention,"    he   proceeded    at    once. 

"  I'll  go  over  a  few  facts  —  this  Daniel  Culser,  you 

were  in  love  with  him;  no  length  you  wouldn't  go, 

lost  your  senses  completely ;  and  he  —  all  he  cared 

262 


THE  FORGE 


about  was  the  money  he  could  wring  out  of  you. 
As  soon  as  you  were  paid  the  sums  that  Mr. 
Penny  allowed  you,  this  Culser  got  it  from  you; 
he  took  every  cent  and  wanted  more.  Said  he  would 
leave  you  unless  you  got  hold  of  something  really 
worth  while.  Then,  of  course,  you  carried  on, 
promised  to  get  him  more  and  more;  said  you  could 
force  a  fortune  from  Mr.  Penny,  anything  to  keep 
the  young  man.  Hey  ?  "  he  demanded  suddenly. 

The  woman  looked  up  with  a  haggard  wonder,  an 
irrepressible  shudder ;  her  hands  raised  and  fell,  and 
she  nodded  dumbly. 

"  Then,  while  Culser  was  in  the  house,  Mr.  Penny 
unexpectedly  turned  up  and  said  —  perhaps  before 
Daniel  himself  —  that  you  could  expect  nothing 
more,  and  made  it  plain  that  he  was  not  to  be  in- 
timidated. Daniel  Culser  was  for  leaving  you, 
didn't  intend  to  hang  around  for  a  bloody  little 
quarterly ;  and,  when  you  realized  that  he  meant,  or 
you  thought  he  meant,  what  he  said,  you  went  crazy 
and  shot  him.  .  .  .  What ! "  He  got  no  response 
from  her  now;  she  cowered  away  from  him,  hiding 
behind  an  updrawn  shoulder,  a  fold  of  the  shawl. 
"  But  listen  to  this,"  Al  Schimpf  shot  at  her,  leaning 
forward,  "  here's  what  happened,  and  you  must  re- 
member every  fact: 

"  The  fellow  had  been  around  the  house  day  after 
day.  You  had  encouraged  him  at  first;  but  then 
you  got  frightened ;  he  beat  you  —  hear  that  ?  — 
struck  you  with  his  fist,  and  threatened  worse  if  you 

263 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


didn't  go  through  old  Penny's  pocket  for  him.  He 
even  hinted  at  something  you  might  do  together,  and 
then  get  away  with  a  mint.  Culser  was  at  it  when 
Mr.  Penny  called,  and  took  it  up  when  he  left,  at 
about  six  o'clock.  He  said  he  wanted  money  bad, 
debts  were  hounding  him ;  and  he  was  going  to  get  it 
out  of  Penny,  out  of  you.  There's  where  you  said  you 
would  warn  Jasper  Penny ;  and  remember  how  he 
struck  you,  in  the  back,  because  you  turned,  and  it 
hurts  yet  —  there  up  by  the  left  shoulder,  the  left 
shoulder,  the  left!  Then,  he  had  been  drinking  in 
your  house  and  at  a  tavern,  he  threatened  to  kill 
you  if  you  didn't  do  what  he  wanted.  You  honestly 
thought  he'd  do  it,  and  snatched  a  pistol  out  of 
a  table  drawer,  and  .  .  .  Do  you  understand? 
That's  what  happened,  and  it's  all  you  know.  Said 
he  would  kill  you,  apparently  commenced  then,  and 
you  acted  in  self-protection.  Now,  repeat  that." 

She  gazed  at  him  in  a  trembling  confusion. 
"  But,"  she  objected,  "  he  was  only  —  he  said.  Oh ! 
I  was  afraid  I'd  lose  him."  The  lawyer  moved 
closer  to  her,  his  unwinking,  grey-green  eyes  like 
slate.  "  He  said  he'd  kill  you,"  he  reiterated ;  "  re- 
member that,  if  you  don't  want  to  hang.  He  struck 
you;  where?  "  After  a  long  pause  she  replied  halt- 
ingly, "  In  the  back."  Al  Schimpf  nodded,  "  Good. 
And  he  said  you  both  were  to  get  away  with  a  mint. 
He  told  you  it  would  be  easy;  the  old  man  would 
gladly  buy  silence ;  and,  by  heaven,  if  he  didn't  — " 

Jasper  Penny  stonily  watched  the  intolerable  deg- 
264 


THE  FORGE 


radation  of  the  woman  bullied  into  the  safety  of  a 
lie.  This  was  worse  than  anything  that  had  gone 
before;  he  fell  deeper  and  deeper  into  a  strangling, 
humiliating  self-loathing.  Stephen  Jannan's  hand- 
some countenance  was  fixed  and  pale;  one  hand  lay 
on  the  table,  empty  and  still.  In  the  silence  between 
Schimpf's  insistent  periods  Jasper  Penny  could  hear 
Essie's  sobbing  inspirations ;  he  was  unable  to  keep 
his  gaze  from  her  countenance,  jelly-like  and  robbed 
of  every  trace  of  human  dignity.  He  wondered 
vaguely  at  an  absence  of  any  sense  of  responsibility 
for  what  Essie  Scofield  had  become;  he  felt  that  an 
attitude  of  self-accusation,  of  profound  regret  for 
the  way  they  had  taken  together,  should  rest  upon 
him ;  but  the  thought,  the  effort,  were  perfunctory, 
obviously  insincere.  If  now  he  had  a  different,  per- 
haps deeper,  sense  of  responsibility,  he  had  known 
nothing  of  it  in  the  first  months  of  his  contact  with 
her.  ...  A  different  man,  he  reiterated ;  and  one  as 
faithfully  representative  as  he  was  to-day.  But 
totally  another;  men  changed,  evolved,  progressed. 
Jasper  Penny  was  convinced  that  it  was  a  progres- 
sion ;  but  in  a  broad  manner  beyond  all  hope  of  his 
comprehension,  and  entirely  outside  dogmatic  good 
and  evil.  The  germ  of  it  must  have  been  in  him 
from  the  first ;  his  burning  necessity  for  Susan,  he 
told  himself,  had  been  born  in  him,  laid  dormant 
until,  yes  —  it  had  been  stirred  into  activity  by 
Essie  Scofield,  by  the  revulsion  which  had  followed 
that  natural  development. 

265 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


He  was  suddenly  conscious  that  Al  Schimpf  had 
ceased  domineering  Essie.  The  lawyer  swung  about, 
facing  them  with  an  expression  of  commonplace  sat- 
isfaction. *'  It's  all  in  fine  order,"  he  declared.  "  I 
want,  if  possible,  to  study  our  jury  through  a  pre- 
liminary case  or  so.  We  shall,  of  course,  surrender 
our  client  at  once,  without  making  any  difficulty 
about  moving  her  from  one  police  district  to  an- 
other. I  can  produce  a  witness  to  the  fact  that  this 
Culser  openly  said  that  he  expected  shortly  to  come 
into  more  money.  And  he  had  dishonoured  debts  all 
about.  You  will  have  to  appear,  Mr.  Penny ;  no  way 
out  of  that,  but  our  defence  should  go  like  a  song. 
Now,  Mrs.  Scofield,  I  have  a  carriage  outside." 

When  they  had  gone  Jasper  Penny  and  Jannan 
sat  in  a  lengthening  silence.  Stephen's  hand  moved 
among  the  papers  on  the  table;  the  other  drew  a 
deep  breath.  "  I  regret  this  tremendously  for  you," 
Stephen  Jannan  said  at  last.  He  spoke  with  feel- 
ing; his  momentary  anger  at  the  entanglement  of 
Susan  vanished.  "  But  it  will  pass,  Jasper.  You 
are  too  solid  a  man  to  be  hurt  permanently  by  pri- 
vate scandal.  And  you  have  no  concrete  political 
position  to  invite  mud  slinging.  Yes,  it  will  drop  out 
of  mind,  and  your  iron  will  continue  to  support 
enterprise,  extension." 

"  But  Susan,"  Jasper  Penny  demanded,  "  what 
about  her?  Where  is  she?  " 

"  With  Graham  at  Shadrach.  She  was  badly 
torn,  and  I  insisted  on  her  retreating  for  a  week  or 
266 


THE  FORGE 


more.  There  is  a  very  capable  assistant  at  the 
Academy.  It's  too  early  to  speak  conclusively,  but 
I  am  afraid  that  Susan's  usefulness  is  ended  there. 
Have  you  seen  the  cheaper  sheets?  Every  one,  of 
course,  is  buying  them.  Rotten!  The  assistant,  I 
understand,  is  anxious  to  procure  the  school,  and  I 
am  considering  allowing  her  the  capital.  Some- 
thing might  be  arranged  paying  Susan  an  income 
.  .  .  If  she  would  accept;  confoundly  difficult  to 
come  about." 

"  I  am  going  to  marry  her,"  Jasper  Penny  as- 
serted once  more. 

"  What  was  the  initial  trouble?  "  the  other  asked, 
tersely. 

"  Essie."     Stephen  frowned. 

"  She  would  hit  on  that,"  he  agreed ;  "  stand  until 
the  last  gasp  of  some  fantastic  conception  of  right." 

Jasper  explained: 

"  She  thinks  I  ought  to  marry  Essie,  mostly  on 
account  of  the  child.  She  likes  me,  too,  Stephen;  I 
think  I  may  tell  you  that.  Well,  I'll  keep  at  her 
and  at  her.  In  the  end  she  will  get  tired  of  refusal." 
The  other  shook  his  head  doubtfully.  "  I've  known 
Susan  a  good  many  years,  and  I  have  never  seen  her 
lose  an  ideal,  or  even  an  idea,  yet." 

Jasper  Penny  rose.  "  Meanwhile  I'll  have  to  go 
through  with  this  trial.  Thank  God,  Susan  has  no 
part  in  it."  He  warmly  gripped  Stephen's  palm. 
"  You're  worth  something  in  a  life,  immovable. 
Thank  you,  Stephen." 

267 


XXII 

IT  was  early  in  April,  an  insidiously  warm 
morning  with  the  ailanthus  trees  in  bud  before 
the  State  House,  when  Jasper  Penny  left  the 
court  room  where  Essie  had  been  freed.  Provision 
had  been  made  for  her  —  she  had  had  a  severe  col- 
lapse during  the  trial  —  and  a  feeling  almost  of  re- 
newed liberty  of  spirit  permeated  Jasper,  as,  with 
his  overcoat  on  an  arm,  he  turned  to  the  left  and 
walked  over  the  street  in  the  blandly  expanding  mild- 
ness. A  train  left  shortly  for  Jaffa,  and  he  was 
bound  directly  home,  to  Myrtle  Forge,  anxious  to 
steep  himself  in  the  echo  of  the  trip  hammer  mingled 
with  the  poignant  harmony  of  spring  sounds  drift- 
ing from  the  farm  and  woods.  He  was  possessed  by 
a  sharpened  hunger  for  all  the  —  now  recognized  — 
beauty  of  the  place  of  his  allegiance  and  birth,  the 
serenity  of  the  acres  Gilbert  Penny  had  beaten  out 
of  the  wild  of  the  Province.  He  was  astonishingly 
conscious  of  himself  as  a  part  of  the  whole  Penny 
succession,  proud  of  Gilbert,  of  Howat,  who  had 
always  so  engaged  his  fancy,  of  Casimir,  and  Daniel, 
his  own  father.  Theirs  was  a  good  heritage;  their 
part  of  the  earth,  the  ring  of  their  iron,  his  particu- 
lar characteristic  of  a  black  Penny,  formed  a  really 
splendid  entity. 

The  low,  horizontal  branches  of  the  beech  tree  on 
268 


THE  FORGE 


the  lawn,  older  than  the  dwelling,  opposed  a  pleasant 
variety  on  the  long  fa£ade,  built  of  stone  with  an 
appearance  of  dark  pinkish  malleability  masking  its 
obduracy.  His  mother  was  awaiting  him  on  the 
narrow  portico,  and  he  at  once  told  her  of  Essie's 
release.  They  stood  together,  gazing  out  across  the 
turf,  faintly  emerald,  over  the  public  road,  at  the 
grey,  solid  group  of  farm  buildings  beyond.  The 
farmer's  daughter,  in  a  white  slip,  emerged  against 
the  barnyard,  and  called  the  chickens  in  a  high, 
musical  note,  scattering  grain  to  a  hysterical  feath- 
ery mob.  The  air  was  still  with  approaching  twi- 
light; the  sun  slipped  below  the  western  trees  and 
shadows  gathered  under  the  lilac  bushes;  the  sky 
was  April  green. 

"  Your  father  has  been  dead  twelve  years,"  Gilda 
Penny  said  unexpectedly.  He  looked  down  and 
saw  that  she  was  decrepit,  an  old  woman.  Her 
mouth  had  sunken,  her  ears  projected  in  dry  folds 
from  her  scant  strands  of  hair.  He  recalled  Daniel 
Barnes  Penny ;  the  earliest  memories  of  his  mother, 
a  vigorous,  brown-faced  woman  with  alert,  black 
eyes,  quick-stepping,  dictatorial  in  the  sphere  of 
her  house  and  dependents.  One  after  the  other,  like 
the  sun,  they  were  slipping  out  of  the  sight  of  Myr- 
tle Forge;  vanished  and  remained;  passed  from  fall- 
ing hand  to  hand  the  unextinguished  flame  of  life. 
Gilda  Penny  was  merging  fast  into  the  formless 
dark.  She  clung  with  pathetically  tense  fingers  to 
his  arm  as  they  turned  into  the  house. 

269 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


He  had  ordered  a  carriage  immediately  after  an 
early  supper;  and,  informing  his  coachman  of  his 
wish  to  proceed  alone,  drove  quickly  away  through 
the  dusk.  He  was  going  to  Shadrach  Furnace,  to 
meet  Susan  for  the  first  time  since  the  unhappy  oc- 
casion in  the  Mayor's  chamber.  He  had  decided,  sti- 
fling his  increasing  impatience,  not  to  see  her  until 
Essie's  trial  was  over.  Susan  had  been  at  Graham 
Jannan's  house  for  nine  weeks.  Her  sight,  he  had 
learned,  had  almost  completely  failed  in  a  general 
exhaustion;  but,  with  rigorous  care,  she  had  nearly 
recovered.  The  Academy  had  been  sold  to  the  as- 
sistant mistress ;  and  there  was  an  expressed  uncer- 
tainty about  Susan's  near  future.  It  had,  however, 
no  existence  in  Jasper  Penny's  thoughts,  plans  — 
she  must  marry  him ;  any  other  course  would  now 
be  absurd.  The  track  from  Myrtle  Forge  to  the 
Furnace  was  bound  into  his  every  thought  and  asso- 
ciation; its  familiarity,  he  mused,  had  been  born  in 
him;  his  horses,  too,  took  correctly,  without  pres- 
sure, every  turning  of  the  way.  The  road  mounted, 
and  then  dropped  between  rounded  hills  to  the  clus- 
tering buildings,  where  lighted,  pale  yellow  windows 
floated  on  the  dusk,  crowned  by  the  wide-flung  radi- 
ance of  the  Furnace  stack.  The  air  was  potent  in 
the  valley  with  the  indeterminate  scent  of  budding 
earth  —  the  premonitory  fragrance  of  blossoms ; 
and,  hardly  less  delicate,  stars  flowered  whitely  in 
blue  space. 

He  paused  for  a  moment  before  entering  Graham 
270 


THE  FORGE 


Jannan's  house,  saturated  with  the  pastoral  tran- 
quillity, listening  to  the  flutter  of  wings  under  the 
eaves.  Then  he  went  in.  They  had  finished  supper, 
but  were  lingering  at  the  table,  with  the  candles 
guttering  in  an  air  from  the  open  door.  His  greet- 
ing was  simple  and  glad,  and  without  restraint. 
Susan  wore  a  dress  like  a  white  vapour,  sprigged 
with  pale  buds,  her  throat  and  arms  bare.  She 
smiled  the  familiar,  hesitating  smile,  met  his  ques- 
tioning gaze  with  her  undeviating  courage.  Jasper 
Penny  took  a  chair  opposite  her.  Little  was  said. 
Peace  deepened  about  his  spirit. 

Graham,  he  saw,  had  a  new  ruddiness  of  health; 
he  laid  a  shawl  tenderly  about  his  wife's  shoulders; 
and  Jasper  remembered  that  a  birth  was  imminent. 
Later  he  drifted  with  Susan  to  the  door,  and  they 
passed  out  into  the  obscurity  beyond.  Even  now 
he  was  reluctant  to  speak,  to  break  with  importuni- 
ties the  serene  mood.  "  All  the  iron  making,"  she 
spoke  at  last,  "  lovely.  I  have  stood  night  after 
night  in  the  cast  house  watching  the  metal  pour  out 
in  its  glorious  colours.  And,  when  I  wake,  I  go  to 
my  window  and  see  the  reflections  of  the  blast  on 
the  trees,  on  the  first  leaves.  The  charcoal  burners 
come  down  like  giants  out  of  the  mythology  of  the 
forest.  And,  when  I  first  came,  there  was  a  raccoon 
hunt,  with  a  great  stirring  of  lanterns  and  barking 
dogs  in  the  dark  ...  all  lovely." 

"  It  is  yours,"  he  said,  bending  over  her.  "  You 
can  come  here  at  your  will.  A  house  built.  And 

271 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


Myrtle  Forge,  too;  whatever  I  have,  am."  He 
paused ;  but,  without  reply,  continued  more  rapidly. 
"  It's  over,  the  —  the  misery  of  the  past  weeks ;  the 
mistakes  are  dead;  they  are  paid,  Susan.  Now  we 
rr.ay  take  what  is  left  and  make  it  as  beautiful  as 
possible.  After  suffering,  reparation,  happiness,  is 
every  one's  due.  And  I  am  certain  I  can  make  you 
happy." 

A  longer  pause  followed,  in  which  he  regarded 
her  with  an  increasing  anxiety.  Her  face  was 
turned  away,  her  progress  grew  slower  until  they 
stood  by  the  shadowy  bulk  of  a  small  stone  struc- 
ture. The  door  was  open,  and  it  seemed  to  him 
that  she  looked  within.  "  A  store  house,"  he  ex- 
plained. Nothing  was  visible  in  the  interior  gloom 
but  some  obscure  shapes,  bales,  piled  against  the 
walls,  and  the  scant  tracery  of  a  rude  stair  leading 
up  to  a  greater  blackness  above.  She  stopped,  as 
if  arrested  by  his  period,  laying  a  hand  on  the  door 
frame. 

"  Why  don't  you  answer  me,  Susan  ?  "  he  pro- 
ceeded. "  You  know  that  I  want  to  marry  you ; 
surely  it  is  all  right  now.  Everything  possible  has 
been  done.  A  great  deal  of  life  remains."  Her  an- 
swer was  so  low  that  it  almost  escaped  him;  the 
faintest  breath  of  pain,  of  longing  and  regret.  "  I 
can't,"  she  whispered ;  "  not  with  her,  the  child.  I 
can't." 

"  That,"  he  replied  gently,  "  is  a  mistaken  idea  of 
responsibility,  a  needless  sacrifice.  I  could  never 
272 


THE  FORGE 


urge  you  into  an  injustice,  a  wrong;  at  last  I  have 
got  above  that ;  what  I  want  is  the  most  reasonable 
thing  imaginable,  the  best,  in  every  conceivable  way, 
for  yourself  and  —  any  other.  You  are  harming, 
depriving,  no  one.  You  are  taking  nothing  but  your 
own,  what  has  been  yours,  and  only  yours,  from  the 
first  moment  I  saw,  no  —  from  my  birth.  What  has 
happened  brought  me  in  a  straight  road  to  you,  the 
long  road  I  have  never,  really,  left." 

"  I  can't,"  she  said  still  again.  "  I  want  to, 
Jasper.  Oh,  with  a  heart  full  of  longing;  I  am  so 
tired  that  I  would  almost  give  the  rest  of  my  life 
for  another  secure  hour  with  you.  And  I  would  pay 
that  to  give  you  what  you  want,  what  you  should 
have.  But  something  stronger  than  I  am,  more  than 
all  this,  holds  me;  I  can't  forget  that  miserable 
woman,  nor  her  child  and  yours,  so  thin  and  sus- 
picious. I  am  not  good  enough  to  be  her  mother 
myself,  even  if  I  felt  I  had  the  right.  Inside  of  me 
I  am  quite  wicked,  selfish.  I  want  my  own.  But 
not  with  the  other  woman  outside.  She'd  be  looking 
in  at  the  windows,  Jasper,  looking  in  at  my  heart. 
I  would  hear  her."  She  leaned  against  her  arm,  her 
face  hid,  her  shoulders  trembling. 

The  musty  odour  of  the  stores  floated  out  and 
enveloped  him.  He  was  suddenly  annoyed.  Susan 
herself  lost  some  of  her  beauty,  her  radiance.  He 
muttered  that  she  was  merely  stubborn,  blind  to 
reality,  to  necessity.  His  attitude  hardened,  and  he 
commenced  to  argue  in  a  low,  insistent  voice.  She 

£73 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


made  no  reply,  but  remained  supported  in  the  door- 
way, a  vague  form  against  the  inner  dark. 

"  You  must  change  your  mind,"  he  asserted ; 
"  you  can't  be  eternally  so  foolish.  There  is  abso- 
lutely no  question  of  my  marrying  Essie  Scofield." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to,  really,"  she  admitted  in  an 
agonized  whisper.  "  I  shall  never  again  ask  you  to 
do  that.  Ah,  God,  how  low  I  am." 

He  saw,  in  an  unsparing  flash  of  comprehension, 
that  it  was  useless.  She  would  never  marry  him  as 
long  as  the  past  stayed  embodied,  actual,  to  peer 
into  their  beings.  A  return  of  his  familiar  irrita- 
bility, spleen,  possessed  him.  "  You  are  too  pure 
for  this  world,"  he  said  brutally.  She  turned  and 
stood  facing  him,  meeting  his  scorn  with  an  uplifted 
countenance.  A  shifting  reflection  from  the  Furnace 
stack  fell  over  her  in  a  wan  veil,  over  the  vaporous, 
sprigged  white  of  her  dress,  her  bare  throat  and 
arms,  her  cheeks  wet  with  tears.  Out  of  it  her  eyes, 
wide  with  pain,  steadily  met  his  angry  scrutiny. 
Out  of  it  she  smiled  at  him  before  the  reflection  died. 


274 


Ill     THE  METAL 


XXIII 

IN  the  warm,  subdued  light  of  a  double  lamp 
with  apricot  glass  shades  Howat  Penny  was 
turning  over  the  pages,  stiff  with  dry  paste,  of 
an  album  filled  with  opera  programmes.  The  date 
of  the  brief,  precisely  penned  label  on  the  black 
cover  was  1883-84;  it  was  the  first  of  a  number  of 
such  thick,  recording  volumes  he  had  gathered;  and 
the  operas,  the  casts,  were  of  absorbing  interest. 
At  once  a  memento  of  the  heroic  period  of  American 
music  and  of  his  first  manhood,  the  faded  crudely 
embellished  strips  of  paper,  bearing  names,  lyric 
tenors  and  sopranos  of  limpid,  bird-like  song  long 
ago  lost  in  rosy  and  nebulous  clouds  of  fable  and 
cherished  affection,  roused  remembered  pleasures 
sharper  than  any  calm  actuality  of  to-day.  He 
paused  with  a  quiet  exclamation,  the  single  glass 
adroitly  held  in  his  left,  astigmatic,  eye  fastened  on 
the  announcement  of  a  famous  evening,  a  famous 
name.  His  sense  of  the  leaf  before  him  blurred  in 
the  vivid  memory  of  Patti,  singing  Martha  in  the 
campaign  brought  by  Mapleson  in  the  old  Academy 
of  Music  against  the  forces  of  the  new  Metropolitan 
Opera  House.  He  had  been  one  of  a  conservative 
number  that  had  supported  the  established  opera, 

277 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


declaring  heatedly  that  the  Diva  and  Mapleson  were 
an  unapproachable  musical  combination,  before 
which  the  shoddier  magnificence  of  its  rival,  erected 
practically  in  a  few  summer  months,  would  speedily 
fade. 

Nevertheless,  he  recalled,  the  widely  heralded  per- 
formance had  been  coolly  received.  Patti,  although 
she  had  not  perceptibly  failed  in  voice,  had  been 
unable  to  inspire  the  customary  enthusiasm;  and  the 
scene  at  the  evening's  end,  planned  to  express  her 
overwhelming  triumph  and  superiority,  when  the 
horses  had  been  taken  from  her  carriage  and  it  had 
been  dragged  by  hand  to  the  portal  of  the  Windsor 
Hotel,  had  been  no  better  than  perfunctory.  The 
wily  Mapleson  had  arranged  that  beforehand, 
Howat  Penny  realized,  with  a  faint,  reminiscent  smile 
on  his  severe  lips  —  the  "  enthusiastic  mob  "  had 
been  coldly  recruited,  at  a  price,  from  the  choristers. 
Another  memory  of  Patti,  and  of  that  same  per- 
formance, flooded  back  —  the  dinner  given  her  in 
the  Brunswick.  He  saw  again  the  room  where,  on 
a  divan,  she  had  received,  her  hosts,  the  seventy  or 
more  men  of  fashion  grouped  in  irreproachable  black 
and  white,  with  her  suave  manager,  the  inevitable  tea 
rose  in  his  lapel,  on  a  knee  before  Adelina,  kissing 
her  hand.  The  dinner  had  been  laid  in  the  ball 
room,  lit  with  a  multitude  of  wax  candles.  The 
features,  appearance,  of  the  more  prominent  men, 
of  Mahun  Stetson  and  Daly  and  William  Steinway, 
were  clear  still.  The  original  plan  had  been  to  in- 
278 


THE  METAL 


elude  ladies  at  the  dinner,  but  the  latter,  affecting 
outrage  at  the  Diva's  affair  with  the  Marquis  de 
Caux,  had  refused  to  lend  their  countenance  to  the 
singer's  occasion.  His  smile  broadened  —  this  was 
so  characteristic  of  New  York  in  the  eighties.  How 
different  it  had  been ;  but  it  was  no  better,  he  added 
silently,  now. 

It  was  mid-August,  and  the  air  floating  in  through 
an  open  door  was  ladened  with  the  richness  of  ultra- 
luxuriant  vegetation,  the  persistent,  metallic  whir- 
ring of  locusts,  the  mechanical  repetition  of  katydids. 
One  of  the  owls  that  inhabited  the  old  willow  tree  be- 
fore the  house  cried  softly  .  .  .  How  different !  He 
straightened  up  from  the  book  open  on  his  knees,  and 
the  glass  fell  with  a  small  clatter  over  his  formal, 
starched  linen,  swinging  for  an  instant  on  its  narrow 
ribbon.  The  unwavering  lamp  light  was  deflected 
in  green  points  through  the  emeralds  of  his  studs. 

The  thought  of  bygone,  gala  nights  of  opera  fas- 
tened on  him  with  a  peculiar  significance  —  suddenly 
they  seemed  symbolic  of  his  lost  youth.  Such  tides 
of  impassioned  song,  such  poignant,  lyric  passion, 
such  tragic  sacrifice  and  death,  were  all  in  the  ex- 
travagant key  of  youth.  The  very  convention  of 
opera,  the  glorified  unreality  of  its  language,  the 
romantic  impossibility  of  its  colour,  the  sparkling 
dress  like  the  sparkling  voices  and  blue  gardens  and 
gilded  halls,  were  the  authentic  expression  of  the 
resplendent  vagaries  of  early  years. 

The  winter  of  eighty  three  and  four ;  his  first  sea- 

279 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

son  of  New  York  music.  The  autumn  before  he  had 
returned  from  the  five  years  spent  in  Europe,  in 
Paris  practically,  with  Bundy  Provost,  related  to 
him  by  a  marriage  in  the  past  generation,  through 
the  Jannans.  He  had  gone  abroad  immediately 
after  his  graduation  as  a  lawyer ;  and  in  the  indolent 
culture  of  the  five  Parisian  years,  he  now  realized, 
he  had  permanently  lost  all  hold  on  his  profession. 
At  his  return  he  had  drifted  imperceptibly  into  an 
existence  of  polite  pleasure.  It  had  been  different 
with  Bundy;  he  had  gone  into  the  banking  house 
of  Provost,  lately  established  in  New  York ;  and,  with 
the  extraordinary  pertinacity  and  acumen  sometimes 
developed  by  worldly  and  rich  young  men,  he  had 
steadily  risen  to  a  place  of  financial  importance. 
An  opening  had,  of  course,  been  offered  to  Howat 
Penny  when  he  had  definitely  decided  not  to  set- 
tle in  Philadelphia,  where  the  Pennys  had  always 
been  associated,  and  pursue  the  law.  And,  at  first, 
he  had  occupied  a  desk  in  the  Provost  counting 
rooms.  But  he  had  soon  grown  discontented,  he  dis- 
liked routine  and  a  clerk's  condition;  and,  after  two 
years  of  annoyed  effort,  withdrew  to  lead  a  more  con- 
genial existence  on  a  secure,  adequate  income. 

"  It  was  a  mistake,"  he  said  aloud,  in  a  decided, 
clearly  modulated  voice,  gazing  blankly  into  the 
warm  stillness  of  the  room.  It  had  come  partly 
from  his  innate  impatience  with  any  inferior  state 
whatever,  and  part  from  the  old  inability  to 
identify  himself  with  the  practicalities  of  exist- 
280 


THE  METAL 


ence.  He  had  always  viewed  with  distaste  the 
apparently  necessary  compromises  of  successful  liv- 
ing; the  struggle  for  money,  commercial  suprem- 
acy, seemed  unendurably  ugly;  the  jargon  and 
subterfuges  of  financial  competition  beneath  his 
exacting  standard  of  personal  dignity.  That  had 
been  his  expression  at  the  time  —  permeated 
by  an  impatient  sense  of  superiority;  but  now  he 
felt  that  there  was  something  essential  lacking  in 
himself.  An  absence  of  proper  balance.  Solely  con- 
cerned with  the  appearance,  the  insignificant  sur- 
face, of  such  efforts  as  Bundy  Provost's,  their  mov- 
ing, masculine  spirit  had  evaded  him.  Yes,  it  had 
been  a  mistake.  He  had  missed  the  greatest  pleas- 
ure of  all,  that  of  accumulating  power  and  influence, 
of  virile  achievement. 

Well,  it  was  over  now;  he  was  old;  his  life,  his 
chance,  had  gone;  and  all  that  remained  were  mem- 
ories of  Patti  smiling  disdainfully  in  the  flare  of  oil 
torches  about  her  carriage ;  the  only  concrete  record 
of  so  many  years  the  scrap  books  such  as  that  on  his 
knees. 

It  had  been  an  error;  yet  there  had  been,  within 
him,  no  choice,  no  intimation  of  a  different,  more 
desirable,  consummation.  Bundy  had  gone  one  way 
and  himself  another  in  obedience  to  forces  beyond 
their  understanding  or  control.  They  had  done, 
briefly,  what  they  were.  There  was  no  individual 
blame  to  attach,  no  applause;  spare  moralizing  to 
append.  He  returned  to  the  pages  before  him,  to  the 

281 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


memories  of  the  radiant  Ambre  and  Marimon,  the 
sylvan  echoes  of  Campanini  singing  Elvino. 

Now  his  recovered  glass  was  intent  on  a  pro- 
gramme of  the  rapidly  successful  Metropolitan 
forces,  of  the  new  German  Opera,  with  Seidl-Krauss 
singing  Elizabeth,  and  Brandt  in  Fidelia.  Even 
here,  after  so  long,  he  vibrated  again  to  the  ex- 
quisite beauty  of  Lenore's  constancy  and  love. 
Then  Dr.  Damrosch  dead,  the  sonorous  funeral  in 
the  Opera  House  .  .  .  That  had  been  changed  with 
the  rest ;  the  baignoires  were  gone,  the  tiers  of  boxes 
newly  curved;  gone  the  chandeliers  and  Turkey  red 
carpet  and  gold  threaded  brocade  that  had  seemed 
the  final  expression  of  luxury.  Lehmann  in  the 
premier  of  Tristan  und  Isolde,  with  the  vast  re- 
strained enthusiasm  and  tensity  when,  at  the  end 
of  the  third  act,  Niemann  bared  his  wounded  breast. 
Eames'  rise;  but  that,  and  what  followed,  were  in 
successive  books.  He  closed  the  one  under  his  hand. 

As  the  years  drew  nearer  the  present  their  fea- 
tures became  larger,  more  indistinct,  their  music 
grew  louder,  dissonant.  He  had  retired  further  and 
further  from  an  opera,  a  life,  with  which  he  was 
increasingly  out  of  harmony.  Or  rather,  he  added, 
life  moved  away  from  the  aging.  It  was  as  if  the 
surrounding  affair  became  objective;  as  if,  once  a 
participant  in  a  cast  —  a  production,  however,  less 
than  grand  —  he  had  been  conducted  to  a  seat  some- 
where in  the  midst  of  a  great,  shadowy  audience, 
from  which  he  looked  out  of  the  gloom  at  the  bril- 


282 


THE  METAL 


liant,  removed  spectacle.  The  final  fact  that  had 
taken  him  from  the  setting  of  so  many  of  his  years 
had  been  the  increasing  expense  of  a  discriminating 
existence  in  New  York.  Again  his  distaste  for  any- 
thing short  of  absolute  nicety  had  dictated  the  form 
and  conditions  of  his  living.  When  the  situation  of 
his  rooms  had  definitely  declined,  and  the  cost  of 
possible  locations  —  he  could  not  endure  a  club  — 
became  prohibitive ;  when  his  once  adequate,  unaug- 
mented  income  assumed  the  limitations  of  a  mere  suf- 
ficiency ;  and  when,  too,  the  old,  familiar  figures,  the 
swells  of  his  own  period  and  acquaintance  had  van- 
ished one  by  one  with  their  vanishing  halls  of  assem- 
bly —  he  had  retreated  to  the  traditional  place  of 
his  family.  He  had  gone  back  to  the  home  of  the 
Pennys  in  America. 

Not,  however,  to  Myrtle  Forge  itself,  the  true 
centre  of  his  inheritance.  The  house  there  had  been 
uninhabited  since  his  father's  early  years;  it  was 
a  closed  and  melancholy  memento ;  he  had  reani- 
mated a  comfortable  stone  dwelling  at  Shadrach 
Furnace;  its  solid  grey  fafade  drawn  out  by  two 
happy  additions  to  the  original,  small  square.  It 
had  been,  traditionally,  at  first,  the  house  of  the 
head  furnacemen ;  sometime  after  that,  perhaps  a 
hundred  years,  Graham  Jannan,  newly  married,  had 
lived  there  while  occupied  with  the  active  manufac- 
ture of  iron ;  and  three  summers  back  he,  Howat 
Penny,  the  last  Penny  now,  had  returned  to  the 
vicinity  of  Jaffa. 

283 


XXIV 

THE  room  in  which  he  sat  had  two  windows, 
set  in  the  deep  recesses  of  heavy  stone 
walls,  and  three  doors,  two  leading  into 
opposite  rooms  and  the  third  opening  without.  The 
double  lamp  stood  on  a  low,  gate-legged  table  of 
fibrous,  time-blackened  oak,  together  with  an  orderly 
array  of  periodicals  —  the  white,  typographical 
page  of  the  Saturday  Review  under  the  dull  rose  of 
The  Living  Age  and  chocolate-coloured  bulk  of  the 
Unpopular,  Gil  Bias,  the  mid-week  Boston  Tran- 
script and  yesterday's  New  York  Evening  Post. 
The  table  bore,  in  addition,  a  green  morocco  case 
of  dominoes ;  a  mahogany  box  that,  in  a  recess,  mys- 
teriously maintained  a  visible  cigarette;  a  study  of 
Beethoven,  in  French ;  an  outspread  volume  by  Ana- 
tole  France,  Jacques  Toumebroche,  in  a  handsome 
paper  cover;  a  set  of  copper  ash  trays;  and  a  dull 
red  figurine,  holding  within  its  few  inches  the  death- 
less spirit  of  a  heroic  age.  An  angle  of  the  wall 
before  him  was  filled  by  a  white  panelled  fireplace, 
the  mantel  close  against  the  ceiling;  and  on  the 
other  side  of  a  doorway,  through  which  he  could  see 
Rudolph  noiselessly  preparing  the  dinner  table,  was 
a  swan-like  sofa,  in  olive  wood  and  pale  yellow  satin, 
284 


THE  METAL 


from  the  Venice  of  the  ottocento.  At  his  right,  be- 
yond a  window,  mounted  a  tall,  austere  secretary  in 
waxed  walnut ;  and  behind  him,  under  the  white  chair 
rail,  bookcases  extended  across  the  width  of  the 
room.  Gustavus  Hesselius'  portrait  of  the  first 
Howat  Penny  hung  on  a  yellow  painted  wall,  his 
gilt-braided  major's  facings  still  vivid,  his  dark,  per- 
ceptible scorn  undimmed.  There  were,  too,  framed 
in  oak,  a  large  photograph  of  Tamagno,  as  Othello, 
with  a  scrawled,  cordial  message ;  another  of  a  grace- 
ful woman  in  the  Page's  costume  of  Les  Huguenots, 
signed  "  Sempre  .  .  .  Scalchi " ;  a  water  colour 
drawing  by  Jan  Beers ;  and  a  Victorian  lithograph 
in  powdery  foliage  and  brick  of  The  Penny  Rolling 
Mills.  Jaffa.  A  black-blue  rug,  from  Myrtle 
Forge,  partly  covered  the  broad,  oak  boards  of  the 
floor ;  and  there  was  a  comfortable  variety  of  chairs 
—  sturdy,  painted  Dutch,  winged  Windsors  and  a 
slatted  Hunterstown  rocker. 

Howat  Penny's  gaze  wandered  over  the  familiar 
furnishing,  come  to  him  surviving  the  generations  of 
his  family,  or  carefully  procured  for  his  individual 
dictates.  A  sense  of  tranquillity,  of  haven,  deepened 
about  him.  "  Rudolph,"  he  inquired,  "  has  Hon- 
duras gone  for  Miss  Jannan?" 

The  man  stopped  in  the  doorway,  answering  in 
the  affirmative.  He  was  slight,  almost  fragile,  with 
close,  dark  hair  that  stood  up  across  his  forehead, 
and  dry,  high-coloured  cheeks.  Rudolph  hesitated, 
with  a  handful  of  silver;  and  then  returned  to  his 

285 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


task.  Mariana  would  be  along  immediately,  Howat 
Penny  thought.  He  put  the  album  aside  and  rose, 
moving  toward  the  door  that  led  without.  He  was  a 
slender,  erect  figure,  with  little  to  indicate  his  age 
except  the  almost  complete  silvering  of  his  hair  — 
it  had,  evidently,  been  black  —  and  a  rigidity  of  body 
only  apparent  to  a  sharp  scrutiny. 

A  porch  followed  that  length  of  the  house,  and 
doubled  the  end,  where  he  stood  peering  into  the 
gathering  dusk.  The  old  willow  tree,  inhabited  by 
the  owls,  spread  a  delicate,  blurred  silhouette  across 
a  darkened  vista  of  shorn  wheat  fields,  filled,  in  the 
hollows,  with  woods ;  and  a  lamp  glimmered  from  a 
farm  house  on  a  hill  to  the  left.  His  lawn  dropped 
to  the  public  road,  the  hedged  enclosure  swimming 
with  fireflies ;  and  beyond  he  saw  the  wavering  light 
shafts  of  his  small  motor  returning  from  the  insig- 
nificant flag  station  on  the  railroad,  a  mile  distant. 

The  noise  of  the  engine  increased,  sliding  into  a 
lower  gear  on  the  short  curve  of  the  driveway;  and 
he  met  Mariana  Jannan  at  the  entrance  directly  into 
the  dining  room.  She  insisted,  to  his  renewed  dis- 
comfort, on  kissing  him.  "  It's  wonderful  here,  after 
the  city,"  she  proclaimed ;  "  and  I've  had  to  be  in 
town  three  sweltering  days.  I'll  dress  right  away." 

Honduras,  his  coloured  man,  as  indispensable  out- 
side as  Rudolph  was  in,  followed  with  her  bag  up  the 
narrow  flight  of  steps  to  the  floor  above.  He  waited 
through,  he  thought,  a  reasonable  interval,  and  then 
286 


THE  METAL 


called.  An  indistinguishable  reply  floated  down, 
mingled  with  the  filling  of  a  tub;  and  another  half 
hour  passed  before  Mariana  appeared  in  white  chif- 
fon, securing  a  broad  girdle  of  silver  oak  leaves  about 
her  slight  waist.  "  Do  you  mind?  "  she  turned  be- 
fore him;  and,  with  an  impatience  half  assumed  and 
half  actual,  he  fastened  the  last  hooks  of  her  dress. 
"  As  you  know,"  he  reminded  her,  "  I  don't  attempt 
cocktails.  Will  you  have  a  gin  and  bitters?" 

She  wouldn't,  frankly ;  and  they  embarked  on  din- 
ner in  a  pleasant,  unstrained  silence.  Mariana  was, 
he  realized,  the  only  person  alive  for  whom  he  had  a 
genuine  warmth  of  affection.  She  was  a  first  cousin ; 
her  Aunt  Elizabeth  had  married  James  Penny,  his 
father ;  but  his  fondness  for  her  had  no  root  in  that 
fact.  It  didn't,  for  example,  extend  to  her  brother 
Kingsfrere.  He  speculated  again  on  the  reason  for 
her  marked  effect.  Mariana  was  not  lovely,  as  had 
been  the  charmers  of  his  own  day ;  her  features,  with 
the  exception  of  her  eyes,  were  unremarkable.  And 
her  eyes,  variably  blue,  were  only  arresting  because 
of  their  extraordinary  intensity  of  vision,  their  un- 
quenchable and  impertinent  curiosity.  A  girl  abso- 
lutely different  from  all  his  cherished  mental  images ; 
but,  for  Howat  Penny,  always  potent,  always  arous- 
ing a  response  from  his  supercritical  being,  stirring 
his  aesthetic  heart.  Everything  he  possessed  —  his 
pictures,  the  albums,  the  moderate  income,  although 
she  had  little  need  of  that  —  had  been  willed  to  her. 

887 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


It  would  be  hers  then  just  as  it  was,  practically,  now. 
And  he  was  aware  that  her  feeling  generously 
equalled  his  own. 

His  speculation,  penetrating  deeper  than  custom- 
ary, rewarded  him  with  the  thought  that  she  was 
unusual  in  the  courage  of  her  emotions.  That  was 
it  —  the  courage  of  her  emotions!  There  was  a 
total  lack  of  any  penurious  trait,  any  ulterior 
thought  of  appraising  herself  against  a  possible  ad- 
vantageous barter.  She  was  never  concerned  with 
a  conscious  prudery  in  the  arrangement  of  her  skirt, 
Mariana  was  aristocratic  in  the  correct  sense  of  the 
term;  a  sense,  he  realized,  now  almost  lost.  And  he 
rated  aristocracy  of  bearing  higher  than  any  other 
condition  or  fact. 

He  wondered  a  little  at  her  patent  pleasure  in 
visiting  him,  an  old  man,  so  frequently.  Hardly  a 
month  passed  but  that,  announced  by  telegram,  she 
did  not  appear  and  stay  over  night,  or  for  a  part 
of  the  week.  She  would  recount  minutely  the  cur- 
rent gaiety  of  her  polite  existence.  He  knew  the 
names  of  her  associates,  a  number  of  them  had  been 
exhibited  to  him  at  Shadrach ;  the  location  of  their 
country  places ;  and  what  men  temporarily  monopo- 
lized her  interest.  None  of  the  latter  had  been  seri- 
ous. He  was,  selfishly,  glad  of  that;  and  waited 
uneasily  through  her  every  visit  until  she  assured  him 
that  her  affections  had  not  been  possessed.  How- 
ever, this  condition,  he  knew,  must  soon  come  to  an 
288 


THE  METAL 


end ;  Mariana  was  instinct  with  sex ;  and  a  short 
while  before  he  had  sent  his  acknowledgment  of  her 
twenty-sixth  birthday. 

She  sat  occupied  with  salad  against  the  cavernous 
depths  of  a  fireplace  that,  between  the  kitchen  door 
and  a  built-in  cupboard,  filled  the  side  of  the  dining 
room.  The  long  mantel  above  her  head  was  ladened 
with  the  grey  sheen  of  pewter,  and  two  uncommonly 
large,  fluted  bowls  of  blue  Stiegel  glass.  In  the  cen- 
tre of  the  table  linen,  the  Sheffield  and  crystal  and 
pictorial  Staffordshire,  was  a  vivid  expanse  of  rose 
geraniums.  She  broke  off  a  flower  and  pinned  it 
with  the  diamond  bar  on  her  breast.  "  Howat,"  she 
said,  "  to-morrow's  Saturday,  and  I've  asked  two 
people  out  until  Sunday  night.  Eliza  Provost  and 
a  young  man.  Do  you  mind?" 

"Tell  Rudolph,"  he  replied.  It  was  not  until 
after  dinner,  when  they  were  playing  sniff,  that  he 
realized  that  she  omitted  the  young  man's  name. 
He  intended  to  ask  it,  but,  his  mind  and  hand  hover- 
ing over  an  ivory  domino,  he  forgot.  "  Twenty," 
he  announced,  reaching  for  the  scoring  pad.  "  Oh, 
hell,  Howat ! "  she  protested.  "  That's  the  game, 
almost."  She  emptied  her  coffee  cup,  and  specu- 
latively  fingered  one  of  the  thin  cigars  in  the  box 
at  his  hand.  "  It's  the  customary  thing  in  Peru," 
she  observed,  pinching  the  end  from  the  cigar  and 
lighting  it.  He  watched  her  absently,  veiled  in  the 
fragrant,  bluish  smoke.  Automatically  his  thoughts 

289 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


returned  to  the  women  that,  at  a  breath  of  scandal, 
had  refused  to  attend  the  dinner  to  Patti.  So  much 
changed ;  the  years  fled  like  birds  in  a  mist. 

"  I  feel  like  a  politician,"  she  told  him.  "  Eliza 
Provost  would  pat  me  on  the  back.  She's  talking 
from  a  soap  box  on  the  street  corners  now,  winging 
men  for  such  trifles  as  forced  birth.  I'm  fond  of 
Eliza;  she's  got  a  splendid  crust.  I  wish  you'd  get 
excited  about  my  rights;  but  your  interest  really 
goes  no  further  than  a  hat  from  Camille  Marchais. 
You  are  deleterious,  Howat.  Isn't  that  a  lovely 
word!  Which  was  the  first  double?"  He  blocked 
and  won  the  game.  "  Fifty-five,"  she  announced ; 
"  and  ninety-five  before.  I  owe  you  a  dollar  and  a 
half." 

She  paid  the  debt  promptly  from  a  flexible  gold 
mesh  bag  on  the  table;  then  stooped  and  wandered 
among  his  books.  Howat  Penny  turned  to  yester- 
day's Evening  Post,  and  Mariana  settled  beyond  the 
lamp.  Outside  the  locusts  were  desperately  shrill, 
and  the  heavy  ticking  of  an  old  clock  grew  audible. 
"  I  don't  like  George  Moore !  "  she  exclaimed.  He 
raised  surprised,  inquiring  eyebrows.  "  He  is  such 
a  taster,"  she  added,  but  particularized  no  more. 
She  sat,  with  the  scarlet  bound  book  clouded  in  the 
white  chiffon  of  her  lap,  gazing  at  the  wall.  Her 
lips  were  parted,  and  a  brighter  colour  rose  in  her 
cheeks.  Her  attitude,  her  expression,  vaguely  dis- 
turbed him;  he  had  never  seen  her  more  warmly, 
dangerously,  alive.  A  new  reluctance  stopped  the 
290 


THE  METAL 


question  forming  in  his  mind;  she  seemed  to  have 
retreated  from  him.  "  Moore  is  a  very  great  artist," 
he  said  instead. 

"  That's  little  to  me,"  she  replied  flippantly,  ris- 
ing. "  I  think  I'll  go  up ;  and  I  almost  think  I  will 
kiss  you  again."  He  grumbled  a  protest,  and 
watched  her  trail  from  the  room,  the  silver  girdle 
and  chiffon  emphasizing  her  thin,  vigorous  body,  the 
lamplight  falling  on  her  bare,  sharp  shoulders. 
Howat  Penny  had  early  acquired  a  habit  of  long 
hours,  and  it  was  past  one  when  he  put  aside  his 
papers,  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  porch.  The  fire- 
flies were  gone,  the  locusts  seemed  farther  away,  and 
the  soft,  heavy  flight  of  an  owl  rose  from  the  warm 
grass. 

Below,  on  the  right,  he  could  vaguely  see  the 
broken  bulk  of  what  had  been  Shadrach  Furnace, 
the  ruined  shape  of  the  past.  The  Pennys  no  longer 
made  iron.  His  father  had  marked  the  last  casting. 
They  no  longer  listened  to  the  beat  of  the  trip  ham- 
mer, but  to  the  light  rhythm  of  a  conductor's  baton ; 
they  heard,  in  place  of  ringing  metal,  a  tenor's  grace 
notes.  Soon  they  would  hear  nothing.  They  went 
out,  for  all  time,  with  himself.  It  was  fitting  that 
the  last,  true  to  their  peculiar  inheritance,  should 
be  a  black  Penny.  He,  Howat,  was  that  —  the 
ancient  Welsh  blood  finally  gathered  in  a  cup  of  life 
before  it  was  spilled. 

Old  influences  quickened  within  him ;  but,  attenu- 
ated, they  were  no  more  than  regrets.  They  came 

291 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


late  to  trouble  his  remnant  of  living.  He  was  like 
the  Furnace,  a  sign  of  what  had  been ;  jet,  he 
thought  in  self-extenuation,  he  had  brought  no  dis- 
honour, no  dragging  of  the  tradition  through  the 
muck  of  a  public  scandal.  Not  that  .  .  .  nor  any- 
thing else.  Now,  when  it  was  absurd,  he  was  resent- 
ful of  the  part  he  had  played  in  life;  like  a  minor, 
cracked  voice,  he  extended  a  former  figure  with  a 
saving  touch  of  humour,  importuning  the  director 
because  he  had  not  been  cast  in  the  great  roles.  The 
night  mist  came  up  and  brushed  him ;  he  was  con- 
scious of  a  sudden  chill,  an  aching  of  the  wrists. 
"  Cracked,"  he  repeated,  aloud,  and  retreated  into 
the  house;  where,  Rudolph  gone  up,  he  put  out  the 
lights  and  stiffly  retired. 


292 


XXV 

THEY  accomplished  little  the  following  morn- 
ing. Mariana,  in  a  scant  brown  linen  skirt, 
a  sheer  waist  through  which  were  visible 
precarious  incidentals  and  narrow  black  ribbon,  and 
the  confoundedest  green  stockings  he  had  ever  seen, 
lounged  indolently  in  a  canvas  swing.  The  heat  in- 
creased in  a  reddish  haze  through  which  the  sun 
poured  like  molten  copper.  "  You'd  better  come 
inside,"  he  said  from  the  doorway ;  "  the  house,  shut 
up,  is  quite  comfortable."  Within  the  damp  of  the 
old,  stone  walls  made  a  comparative  coolness.  The 
shades  were  drawn  down,  and  they  sat  in  an  untimely 
twilight. 

"  When  I  think  of  how  energetic  Eliza  will  be," 
Mariana  asserted,  "  I  am  already  overwhelmed. 
But  you  never  look  hot,  Howat;  you  are  always 
beautiful."  His  flannels  and  straw-coloured  silk 
coat  were  crisply  ironed ;  his  hair,  his  scarf  and  lus- 
trous yellow  shoes,  precise.  "  Howat,"  she  contin- 
ued almost  anxiously,  "  you  put  a  lot  on,  well  — 
good  form.  You  think  that  the  way  a  man  knots 
his  tie  is  tremendously  significant  — " 

"  Perhaps,"  he  returned  cautiously.  "  A  good 
many  years  have  shown  me  that  the  right  man  usu- 
ally wears  the  right  things." 

293 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY 'S 


"  Couldn't  that  be  just  the  smallest  bit  unfair? 
Aren't  there,  after  all,  droves  of  the  right  men  in 
rubber  collars?  I  don't  know  any,"  she  added 
hastily ;  "  that  is,  not  exactly  the  same.  But  it  seems 
to  me  that  you  have  lived  so  exclusively  in  a  cer- 
tain atmosphere  that  you  might  have  got  blinded 
to  —  to  other  things." 

"  Perhaps,"  he  said  again,  complacently.  "  I  can 
only  judge  by  my  own  feeling  and  experience.  Now 
Mapleson,  never  was  a  finer  conductor  of  opera  — 
you  didn't  catch  him  in  a  pink  tie  in  the  evening. 
And  some  of  those  others,  who  failed  in  a  couple  of 
weeks,  I  give  you  my  word,  dress  shirts  with  forget- 
menots." 

She  regarded  him  with  a  frowning,  half  closed 
vision.  "  It  sounds  wrong,"  she  commented.  "  It's 
been  your  life,  of  course."  He  grew  resentful  under 
her  scrutiny,  the  implied  criticism.  A  sudden  sus- 
picion entered  his  mind,  connected  with  her  expres- 
sion last  evening,  the  young  man  whose  name  he  had 
omitted  to  ask.  His  reluctance  to  question  her  re- 
turned. But  if  Mariana  had  attached  herself  to 
some  rowdy,  by  heaven,  he  would  .  .  .  He  fixed  the 
glass  in  his  eye,  and,  pretending  to  be  occupied  with 
a  periodical,  studied  her.  He  realized  that  he  would, 
could,  do  nothing.  She  was  a  woman  of  determina- 
tion, and,  her  father  dead,  a  very  adequate  income 
of  her  own.  His  fondness  for  Mariana  resided  prin- 
cipally in  a  wish  to  see  her  free  from  the  multitudi- 
nous snares  that  he  designated  in  a  group  as  common. 
294, 


THE  METAL 


He  was  fearful  of  her  entanglement  in  the  cheap  im- 
plications of  the  undistinguished  democracy  more 
prevalent  every  year.  All  that  was  notable, 
charming,  in  her,  he  felt,  would  be  obliterated  by 
trite  connection;  he  had  no  more  patience  for  the 
conventional  fulfilment  of  her  life  than  he  had  for 
the  thought  of  women  voting.  Howat  Penny  saw 
Mariana  complete,  fine,  in  herself,  as  the  Orpheo  of 
Christopher  Gluck  was  fine  and  complete.  He  pre- 
ferred the  contained  artistry  of  such  music  to  the 
cruder,  more  popular  and  moral,  sounds. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  she  went  to  her  room, 
although  Honduras  had  no  occasion  to  go  to  the 
station  for  considerably  more  than  an  hour,  explain- 
ing that  she  must  dress.  Howat  Penny  sat  with  his 
palms  on  his  white  flannelled  knees,  revolving,  now, 
himself  in  the  light  of  his  aspirations  for  Mariana. 
He  wondered  if,  in  the  absence  of  any  sympathy  for 
the  mass  of  sentiment  and  living,  he  was  blind,  too, 
to  her  greatest  possibilities ;  if,  in  short,  he  was  a 
vicious  influence.  Perhaps,  as  the  old  were  said 
to  do,  he  had  hardened  into  a  narrow  and  erroneous 
conception  of  values.  Such  doubts  were  both  dis- 
turbing and  unusual;  ordinarily  he  never  hesitated 
in  the  exact  expression  of  his  vigorously  held  opinions 
and  prejudices;  he  seldom  relaxed  the  critical  eleva- 
tion of  his  standards.  He  was,  he  thought  contemp- 
tuously, growing  soft ;  senility  was  diluting  his  fibre, 
blurring  his  inner  vision. 

Nothing  of  this  was  visible  as  he  rose  on  Mariana's 

295 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


reappearance ;  there  was  not  a  line  relaxed ;  his  hand- 
some, dark  profile  was  as  pridefully  clear  as  if  it 
had  been  stamped  on  a  bronze  coin.  Mariana  wore, 
simply,  blue,  with  an  amber  veiling  of  tulle  about 
her  shoulders,  and  a  short  skirt  that  gave  her  a 
marked  youthful  aspect.  She  seemed  ill  at  ease ;  and 
avoided  his  gaze,  hurrying  out  to  meet  the  motor  as 
it  noisily  turned  sharply  in  at  the  door.  Howat 
Penny  heard  Eliza  Provost's  short,  impatient  enun- 
ciation, and  a  rapid,  masculine  utterance.  Eliza 
entered,  a  girl  with  a  decided,  evenly  pale  face 
and  brown  eyes,  in  a  severe  black  linen  suit  and  a 
small  hat,  and  extended  a  direct  hand,  a  slightly 
smiling  greeting.  Mariana  followed,  for  a  moment 
filling  the  doorway.  "  We'll  go  up,  Eliza,"  she  said, 
moving  with  the  other  to  the  stair,  a  few  feet  distant. 
A  man  followed  into  the  house,  and  Mariana  half 
turned  on  the  bottom  step.  "  Howat,"  she  pro- 
ceeded hurriedly,  "  this  is  James  Polder."  Then  she 
ascended  with  Eliza  Provost. 

An  expression  of  amazement,  deepening  almost  to 
dismay,  was  momentarily  visible  on  Howat  Penny's 
countenance.  His  face  felt  hot,  and  there  was  an 
uncomfortable  pressure  in  his  throat,  such  as  might 
come  from  shock.  Surely  Mariana  wouldn't  .  .  . 
without  warning  him  — !  He  was  conscious  of  the 
necessity,  facing  a  tall,  spare  young  man  with  an 
intent  expression,  of  a  polite  phrase ;  and  he  articu- 
lated an  adequate  something  in  a  noticeably  dis- 
turbed tone.  But,  of  course,  he  had  made  a  mistake. 
296 


THE  METAL 


James  Polder's  intensity  increased,  concentrated  in 
a  gaze  at  once  belligerent  and  eager.     He  said: 

"  Then  Miss  Jannan  didn't  tell  you.  It  was  a 
mistake.  It  may  be  I  am  not  exactly  desirable 
here,"  his  voice  sharpened,  and  he  retreated  a  step 
toward  the  door. 

"No,"  Howat  Penny  replied;  "she  didn't."  He 
found  himself  studying  a  face  at  once  youthful  and 
lined,  a  good  jaw  contradicted  by  a  mouth  already 
traced  with  discontent,  and  yellow-brown  eyes  kin- 
dling with  a  surprising  energy  of  resentment.  "  You 
are  Byron  Polder's  son?  "  he  said  in  a  manner  that 
carried  its  own  affirmation.  "  Eunice  Scofield's 
grandson." 

"  Eunice  Penny's,"  the  other  interjected.  "  Your 
own  grandfather  saw  to  that."  His  hand  rested  in 
the  doorway,  and  he  stopped  Honduras,  carrying  in 
the  guests'  bags.  Howat  Penny's  poise  rapidly  re- 
turned. "  Go  right  up,  Honduras,"  he  directed ; 
"  the  Windmill  room,  I  think.  I  had  never  seen 
you,"  he  said  to  James  Polder,  as  if  in  apology. 
"  But  your  father  has  been  pointed  out  to  me."  He 
waved  the  younger  man  into  the  room  beyond,  and 
moved  forward  the  cigarettes. 

James  Polder  took  one  with  an  evident  relief  in 
the  commonplace  act.  He  struck  a  match  and  lit 
the  cigarette  with  elaborate  care.  "  Will  you  sit 
for  a  little?"  the  elder  proceeded.  "Or  perhaps 
you'd  rather  change  at  once.  I've  no  doubt  it  was 
sticky  in  the  city." 

297 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

"  Thank  you ;  perhaps  I'd  better  —  the  last." 
Rudolph  appeared,  and  conducted  the  young  man 
above.  Howat  Penny  sat  suddenly,  his  lips  folded 
in  a  stubborn  line.  Mariana  had  behaved  out- 
rageously ;  she  must  be  familiar  with  the  whole, 
miserable,  past  episode ;  she  had  given  him  some  very 
bad  moments.  He  had  a  personal  bitterness  toward 
that  old,  unhappy  affair,  the  dereliction  of  his  dead 
grandfather  —  it  had  been,  he  had  always  felt, 
largely  responsible  for  his  own  course  in  life ;  it  had, 
before  his  birth  even,  formed  his  limitations,  as  it 
had  those  of  his  father. 

The  latter  had  been  the  child  of  a  dangerously 
late  marriage,  a  marriage  from  which  time  and 
delay  had  stripped  both  material  potency  and  sus- 
taining illusion.  Jasper  Penny  had  been  nearing 
fifty  when  his  son  was  born;  and  that  act  of  delib- 
erate sacrifice  on  the  part  of  his  wife,  entering  mid- 
dle age,  had  imposed  an  inordinate  amount  of 
suffering  on  her  last  years.  Their  child,  it  was 
true,  had  been  of  normal  stature,  and  lived  to  within 
a  short  space  of  a  half  century.  But  then  he  had 
utterly  collapsed,  died  in  three  days  from  what  had 
first  appeared  a  slight  cold;  and,  throughout  his 
maturity,  he  had  been  a  man  of  feverish  mind.  His 
disastrous,  blind  struggle  against  the  great,  newly 
discovered  iron  deposits  of  the  Middle  West  was  char- 
acteristic of  his  ill  balance.  And,  in  his  own,  Howat 
Penny's,  successive  turn,  the  latter  told  himself 
298 


THE  METAL 


again,  he  had  paid  part  of  the  price  of  his  grand- 
father's indulgence. 

It  was  incorporated  in  the  Penny  knowledge  that 
Susan  Brundon  had  refused  to  marry  Jasper  while 
the  other  woman  was  alive.  The  latter  had  died, 
some  years  after  the  disgraceful  publicity  of  the 
murder  and  trial ;  the  wedding  had  then  taken  place ; 
but  it  seemed  to  Howat  Penny  to  have  been  almost 
perfunctory.  Yes,  he  had  paid  too,  in  the  negative 
philosophy,  the  critical  sterility,  of  his  existence. 
He  recognized  this  in  one  of  the  disconcerting  flashes 
of  perception  that  lately  illuminated  him  as  if  from 
without.  Some  essential  proportion  had  been  dis- 
turbed. He  looked  up,  at  a  slight  sound,  and  saw 
Mariana  standing  before  him.  His  expression,  he 
knew,  was  severe;  he  had  been  quite  upset. 

'*  I  can  see,"  she  proceeded  slowly,  "  that  I  have 
been  very  wicked.  I  didn't  realize,  Howat,  that  it 
might  affect  you;  how  real  all  that  old  stir  might 
be.  I  am  tremendously  sorry;  you  must  know 
that  I  am  awfully  fond  of  you.  It  was  pure, 
young  selfishness.  I  was  afraid  that  if  I  spoke  first 
you  wouldn't  let  him  come.  And  it  was  important 
—  I  must  see  him  and  talk  to  him  and  think  about 
it.  You  can  realize  mother  and  Kingsf  rere !  " 

"  Where  did  you  meet  him  ?  "  he  demanded  shortly. 

"  With  Eliza,  at  a  meeting,"  she  went  on  more 
rapidly.  "  He's  terribly  brilliant,  and  a  steel  man. 
Isn't  it  funny  ?  The  Pennys  were  steel,  too ;  or  iron, 

299 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


and  that's  the  same.  I  wish  you  could  be  nice  to  him 
or  just  decent,  until  —  until  I  know." 

"Mariana!"  he  exclaimed,  rising.  "You  don't 
mean  that  you  are  really  — .  That  you  — " 

"  Perhaps,  Howat,"  she  answered  gravely.  "  I 
have  only  seen  him  twice;  and  he  has  said  nothing; 
but,  you  see,  I  am  an  experienced  young  woman.  No 
other  man  has  made  the  same  impression." 

"That,"  he  declared  coldly,  "is  unthinkable. 
You  can't  know  all  the  facts." 

"  I  do ;  but,  somehow,  I  don't  care." 

"  Everything  about  him  is  impossible  —  his  his- 
tory, family  .  .  .  Why,  Eunice  Scofield,  well,  Penny, 
married  a  man  from  behind  a  counter,  a  fellow  who 
sold  womens'  gloves;  yes,  and  more  than  half  Jew. 
And  this  man's  mother  was  Delia  Mullen,  a  daughter 
of  the  dirty  ward  leader.  All  this  aside  from  — 
from  his  bad  blood." 

"  It's  partly  yours,  you  know,"  she  said  quietly. 
"  After  all,  there  are  other  places  I  can  see  him." 
She  turned  away.  "  Eliza  Provost  is  insane,"  he 
muttered.  "  No,"  Mariana  returned,  "  only  supe- 
rior to  narrow  little  prejudices.  She  can  see  life, 
people,  as  they  are.  Jim  Polder  is  one  of  the  most 
promising  men  in  the  steel  mills.  He  is  going  up  and 
up.  That  is  enough  for  Eliza,  it  is  enough  for  me; 
and  if  it  won't  do  for  my  family — "  she  made  an 
opening  gesture  with  her  fingers.  Her  expression 
had  hardened;  she  gazed  at  him  with  bright,  con- 
temptuous eyes.  In  a  moment  the  affectionate  bonds 
300 


THE  METAL 


between  them  seemed  to  have  dissolved.  His  feeling 
was  one  of  mingled  anger  and  concern ;  but  he  en- 
deavoured to  regain  his  self-control,  conscious  that 
a  hasty  word  more  might  do  irreparable  harm. 

"  Of  course,  I  can't  have  you  meeting  him  about 
the  streets,"  he  stated.  "  It  is  better  here,  if  neces- 
sary. I  am  very  much  displeased,"  a  note  of  com- 
plaint appeared,  and  she  immediately  returned  to 
him,  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "  Nothing  is  cer- 
tain," she  assured  him.  "  I  wanted  to  be  sure,  that 
is  all.  I  don't  want  to  make  a  mess  out  of  things." 

It  was  a  part  of  the  very  quality  of  emotional 
courage  he  had  so  lately  defined,  extolled;  a  part  of 
her  disdain  for  ordinary  prudence  and  conventional 
approbation.  A  direct  dislike  for  this  James  Polder 
invaded  him,  a  determined  attitude  of  hyper-criti- 
cism. When  the  younger  man  reappeared  Howat 
Penny  found  justification  for  this  attitude.  The 
details  of  Polder's  apparel,  although  acceptable  in 
the  main,  were  without  nicety.  His  shoes  were  a 
crude  tan,  and  his  necktie  from  the  outer  limbo. 
His  hands,  too,  had  a  grimy  surface  and  the  nails 
were  broken,  unkempt. 

But  it  was  evident  that  all  the  criticism  was  not 
to  be  limited  to  his  own.  James  Polder  regarded  the 
single  glass  with  a  scoffing  lip,  as  if  it  were  the 
appendage  of  a  ludicrous  Anglomania.  He  glanced 
with  indifference  at  Howat  Penny's  pictures,  books, 
the  collected  emblems  of  his  cultivated  years.  His 
brows  raised  at  the  photograph  of  Scalchi  in  the 

301 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


Page's  trunks  —  as  if,  the  elder  thought,  she  had 
been  a  "  pony  "  in  the  Black  Crook  —  and  was  visi- 
ibly  amused  at  the  great  Mapleson,  posed  in  a 
dignified  attitude  by  a  broken  column.  An  irre- 
pressible and  biting  scorn,  Howat  Penny  saw,  was, 
perhaps,  the  young  man's  strongest  attribute.  He 
had  violent  opinions  expressed  in  sudden,  sharp 
movements,  gestures  with  his  shoulders,  swift  frowns 
and  fragmentary  sentences. 

Howat  Penny  had  never  seen  a  more  ill-ordered 
youth,  and  he  experienced  an  increasing  difficulty  in 
keeping  a  marked  asperity  from  his  speech  and  con- 
duct. Eliza  Provost  shortly  came  down,  and  the 
three  strolled  out  into  the  ruddy  light  of  late  after- 
noon. Howat  Penny  consumed  a  long  time  dressing 
for  the  evening;  and,  in  the  end,  irritably  summoned 
Rudolph.  "  I  can't  get  these  damned  studs  in,"  he 
complained ;  "  whatever  do  you  suppose  women  use 
for  starch  now?  "  Rudolph  dexterously  fixed  the 
emeralds,  then  held  the  black  silk  waistcoat.  "  And 
coats  won't  hang  for  a  bawbee,"  he  went  on.  "  Gen- 
tlemen like  Gary  Dilkes  used  to  go  regularly  to 
London,  spring  and  fall,  for  their  things.  No  doubt 
then  about  a  man  of  breeding.  You  didn't  see  the 
other  kind  around.  Wouldn't  have  'era."  Rudolph 
murmured  consolingly.  "  Sat  in  the  pit  but  never 
got  into  the  boxes,"  his  voice  grew  thin,  querulous. 
"  I'm  moving  along,  Rudolph,"  he  admitted  sud- 
denly ;  "  the  manners,  and,  by  thunder,  the  music 
too,  don't  suit  me  any  more.  Give  me  the  old  Acad- 
302 


THE  METAL 


emy  days  in  Irving  Place."  He  hummed  a  bar  from 
Ernani. 

Through  dinner  he  maintained  a  severe  silence, 
listening  with  a  frowning  disapproval  to  Eliza 
Provost's  tranquil,  subversive  utterances.  Howat 
Penny  couldn't  think  what  her  father  was  about, 
permitting  her  to  harangue  loafers  by  the  streets 
and  saloons.  She  was,  in  a  cold  way  —  she  had 
Peter  Jannan  Provost's  curious  grey  colouring  — 
a  handsome  piece  of  a  girl,  too.  "  A  fine  figger," 
he  told  himself. 

Later,  Mariana  and  James  Polder  had  gone  out 
on  the  porch,  he  faced  with  reluctance  the  task 
of  furnishing  her  with  entertainment;  but,  to  his 
extreme  relief,  she  procured  a  leather  portfolio, 
and  addressed  herself  to  a  sheaf  of  papers.  But 
that,  in  itself,  was  a  peculiar  way  for  a  young 
woman  to  spend  an  evening.  She  would  have  done 
it,  he  felt,  if  he  had  been  half  his  actual  age.  God 
help  the  man  with  a  fancy  for  her!  Charming 
visions  were  woven  on  his  memory  from  the  fading 
skeins  of  the  past  —  a  ride  in  a  dilapidated,  public 
fiacre  after  a  masked  ball  in  Paris  ...  at  dawn. 
Confetti  tangled  in  coppery  hair,  a  wilful  mouth, 
fragrantly  painted,  and  phantomlike  swans  on  a 
black  lake.  His  silk  hat  had  been  telescoped  in  the 
process  of  smacking  a  Frenchman's  eye.  Perhaps, 
they  had  told  each  other,  there  would  be  cards  later 
in  the  day,  an  affair  of  honour.  He  forgot  what, 
exactly,  had  happened;  but  there  had  been  no  duel. 

303 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


He  looked  up  with  a  sudden  concern,  as  if  his 
thoughts  might  have  been  clear  to  Eliza  Provost, 
in  irreproachable  evening  dress  and  shell  rimmed 
glasses,  intent  on  statistical  pages.  Mariana  and 
James  Polder  appeared;  the  former,  Howat  Penny 
thought,  disturbed.  Polder's  intense  countenance 
was  sombre,  his  brow  corrugated.  Mariana,  accom- 
panied by  Eliza,  soon  after  went  up;  and  left  the 
two  men  facing  each  other  across  a  neutral  silence. 
"  You  manufacture  steel,  I  believe,"  the  elder  finally 
stated. 

"  The  Company  does,"  Polder  replied  more  ex- 
actly. "  I've  been  in  the  open  hearth  since  I  left 
school,"  he  went  on ;  "  it  was  born  in  me,  I've  never 
thought  of  anything  else."  His  tone  grew  sharp, 
as  if  it  might  occur  to  the  other  to  contradict  the 
legitimacy  of  his  pursuit.  "  I  have  done  well  enough, 
too,"  he  said  pridefully.  *'  Most  of  them  come  on 
from  college.  I  went  from  shovelling  slag  in  the  pit, 
the  crane,  to  second  helper  and  melter;  they  gave 
me  the  furnace  after  a  year  and  now  I  am  foreman. 
It  will  be  better  still  if  a  reorganization  goes 
through.  Not  many  men  have  a  chance  at  the  su- 
perintendent's office  under  thirty-five." 

"  That  is  very  admirable,"  Howat  Penny  said 
formally.  He  wondered,  privately,  at  the  far  chan- 
nel into  which  the  original  Penny  ability  had  flowed. 
There  could  be  no  doubt,  however  objectionable,  that 
James  Polder  was  the  present  repository  of  the  fam- 
ily tradition.  He  had  had  it  from  the  source;  and 
304 


THE  METAL 


the  iron  had  not,  apparently,  been  corroded  by 
tainted  blood.  He  was  forced  to  admit  that  a 
coarser  strain  had,  perhaps,  lent  it  endurance.  All 
this  failed  to  detract  from  his  initial  dislike  of  young 
Polder.  There  was  a  lack  of  breeding  in  the  manner 
in  which  he  sat  in  his  chair,  thrust  forward  on  its 
edge,  in  his  arrogant  proclamation  of  ability,  suc- 
cess. James  Polder  was  anxious,  he  realized,  to  im- 
press him,  Howat  Penny,  with  the  fact  that  he  was 
not  negligible.  Such  things  were  utterly  unimpor- 
tant to  him.  He  was  unable  to  justify,  or  even  ex- 
plain to  himself,  his  standards  of  judgment.  They 
were  not  founded  on  admirable  conduct,  on  achieve- 
ment, what  was  known  as  solid  worth ;  but  on  vague 
accents,  intuitive  attitudes  of  mind  visible  in  a  hun- 
dred trivial,  even  absurd,  signs.  The  "  right 
things "  were  more  indispensable  to  him  than  the 
sublimest  attributes. 

On  the  following  morning  Mariana,  Eliza  and 
Polder  disappeared  in  his  car  —  it  seemed  that  the 
latter  was  an  accomplished  mechanic  in  addition 
to  his  other  qualities  —  and  Howat  Penny  faced  the 
disagreeable  possibilities  of  the  near  future.  Mari- 
ana would,  he  knew,  meet  this  fellow  promiscuously 
if  necessary.  As  she  had  indicated,  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  conceive  of  him  in  Charlotte  Jannan's  house. 
The  latter  was  a  rigidly  correct  woman.  She  would, 
too,  and  properly,  be  nasty  if  she  learned  that  such 
meetings  had  taken  place  at  Shadrach.  The  only 
thing  to  do  was  to  bring  Mariana  to  what  he  desig- 

S05 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


nated  as  her  senses.  And,  at  the  start,  he  had  a 
conviction  that  he  might  fail. 

She  did  not  accompany  Eliza  Provost  and  Polder, 
when,  late  Sunday  afternoon,  they  departed ;  but  sat 
absorbed  in  thought  through  the  evening  meal.  He 
found  his  affection  for  her  increasing  to  an  annoying 
degree;  he  was  almost  humble  in  his  anxiety  not  to 
wound  her. 

"  Life  is  so  messy,"  she  said  with  sudden  vio- 
lence. "  You  can't  think,  Howat,  how  I  hate 
myself;  the  horridest  things  go  round  and  round 
through  my  mind.  We're  all  wrong  —  I'm  more  like 
you  than  I  admitted  —  born  snobs.  I  mean  the  kind 
who  look  down  on  people  different  from  themselves. 
I  can't  help  being  on  —  on  edge.  I  can  tell  you  this, 
though,  I  care  more  for  Jim  Polder  than  for  any 
other  man  I've  ever  met.  I'm  mad  about  him ;  and 
yet,  somehow,  I  can't  quite  think  of  marrying  him. 
He's  asked  me  already.  But  I  knew  he  would." 

"  You  must  wait,"  he  temporized ;  "  such  things 
clear  up  after  a  little." 

"  And  if  they  don't?  "  she  demanded.  "  What  if 
they  are  choked  by  a  hundred  cowardly  or  selfish 
thoughts?  It  can  be  too  late  so  terribly  soon, 
Howat.  You  must  know  that.  You  see,  I  can't  de- 
cide what  really  is  the  most  valuable,  what  should  be 
held  tight  on  to,  or  let  go.  There  are  two  me's,  it 
seems  —  one  what  I  want  and  the  other  what  I  am. 
I  want  Jim  and  I'm  Mariana  Jannan.  All  that 
about  Eunice  or  Essie,  or  whatever  her  name  was, 
306 


THE  METAL 


doesn't  matter  a  bawbee,  as  you  say.  I  hate  it  be- 
cause I  think  at  times  it  makes  him  unhappy. 
Really,  I  believe  I  am  fonder  of  him  because  of  it. 
We  owe  him  something  —  the  superior  Jannans  and 
Pennys.  Why,  Howat,  he's  your  own  blood,  and 
you  looked  at  him  as  if  he  were  a  grocer's  assistant. 
And  I  watched  hatefully  for  the  little  expressions 
that  seemed  common.  Of  course,  out  in  those  mills, 
he  would  pick  up  a  lot  that  wouldn't  touch  us ;  and, 
after  all,  he  could  drop  them." 

"  If  you  have  any  thought  of  reforming  him,"  he 
commented  dryly,  "  you  might  as  well  see  a  wedding 
stationer." 

"  I  could  influence  him,"  she  insisted ;  "  I'd  at 
least  count  for  as  much  as  those  shovellers  and  fur- 
nace men." 

"  But  not,"  he  proceeded  relentlessly,  "  against 
the  Essie  Scofield  you  dismissed  so  easily.  I  don't 
doubt  for  a  minute  the  unhappiness  you  spoke  of; 
it  would  be  a  part  of  his  inheritance ;  and  you'd  never 
charm  it  out  of  him.  Damn  it,  Mariana,"  he  burst 
out,  "  he's  inferior !  That's  all,  inferior."  Anger 
and  resentment  destroyed  his  caution,  his  planned 
logic,  restraint.  "  I  can  see  what  your  life  would 
be,  if  you  can't.  You  would  live  in  a  no-man's  land ; 
and  all  the  clergymen  in  the  world  couldn't  make 
you  one." 

"  It  wouldn't  be  the  clergymen,  Howat,"  she  said 
simply.  "  And  you  mustn't  think  I  am  only  a  silly 
with  her  first  young  man.  I  have  kissed  them  before, 

307 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

Howat;  yes,  and  liked  it.  I  am  not  happy  with 
Jim ;  it's  something  else,  like  tearing  silk.  He  is  so 
confident  and  so  helpless ;  he's  drinking  now,  too." 

"  I  suppose  that  is  an  added  attraction,"  he  com- 
mented. She  chose  to  ignore  this.  "  I  half  prom- 
ised him,"  she  continued,  "  to  take  dinner  with  his 
family.  He  will  be  in  the  city  next  week.  I  said 
I  thought  you'd  bring  me." 

"  Well,  I  won't,"  he  replied  in  a  startled  energy. 
"  Mariana,  you're  out  of  your  head.  Go  to  Byron 
Polder's  house !  Me ! "  In  his  excitement  he 
dropped  a  lighted  cigarette  on  the  Chinese  rug. 
"  I  have  no  one  else,"  she  told  him.  "  Perhaps  I'll 
marry  Jim,  and  go  away  ...  I  thought  you  might 
want  to  be  with  me,  at  the  last." 

He  fumbled  for  his  glass,  fixed  it  in  his  eye,  and 
then  dropped  it  out,  clearing  his  throat  sharply. 
He  rose  and  crossed  the  room,  and  looked  out 
through  the  open  door  at  the  night.  The  stars  were 
hazy,  and  there  was  a  constant  reflection  of  light- 
ning on  the  horizon.  Howat  Penny  swore  silently 
at  his  increasing  softness,  his  betrayal  by  his  years. 
Yet  it  might  be  a  good  thing  for  her  to  see  the 
Polder  family  assembled,  Byron  —  he  was  a  preten- 
tious looking  fool  —  at  one  end  of  the  table  and 
Delia  Mullen  Polder  at  the  other.  There  were 
more  children,  too.  But  if  it  became  necessary, 
heaven  knew  how  he  would  explain  all  this  to  Char- 
lotte. "  I  believe,"  he  said,  apparently  innocently, 
"  that  they  live  in  the  north  end  of  the  city." 
308 


THE  METAL 


"  It  won't  damage  you,"  she  replied  indirectly. 
Already,  he  thought  with  poignant  regret,  a  part  of 
the  old  Mariana  had  gone;  her  voice  was  older, 
darker  with  maturity. 


309 


XXVI 

HOVVAT  PENNY  arrived  in  town  late  on 
the  day  when  he  was  to  dine  with  Mariana 
at  the  Polders.  He  entered  a  taxicab,  and 
was  carried  smoothly  through  the  thick,  hot  air; 
open  electric  cars,  ladened  with  damp,  pallid  sales- 
people, passed  with  a  harsh  ringing;  and  the  foliage 
in  Rittenhouse  Square  hung  dusty  and  limp  and 
still.  The  houses  beyond,  on  Nineteenth  Street, 
where  the  Jannans*  winter  dwelling  stood,  were 
closed  and  blankly  boarded.  The  small,  provisional 
entrance  before  which  he  stopped  opened,  and  a 
servant,  out  of  livery,  appeared.  "  Shall  I  tell  the 
driver  to  return,  sir?"  he  queried;  "the  telephone 
is  disconnected."  He  issued  instructions,  and,  with 
Howat  Penny's  bag,  followed  him  into  the  darkened 
house. 

The  windows  of  a  general  chamber  on  the  second 
floor  had  been  thrown  open ;  and  there  he  found  Ma- 
riana's brother.  Kingsfrere  Jannan  was  a  young 
man  with  a  broad  white  face,  shadowed  in  pasty 
green,  and  leaden  eyes.  His  countenance,  Howat 
knew,  masked  a  keen  and  avaricious  temperament. 
He  did  uncommonly  well  at  auction  bridge  in  the 
clubs.  Kingsfrere,  in  a  grey  morning  coat  with 
310 


THE  METAL 


white  linen  gaiters  and  a  relentless  collar,  nodded 
and  lounged  from  the  room;  and  Mariana  soon  ap- 
peared. "  Perhaps,  Howat,"  she  said,  "  it  would  be 
better  if  you  didn't  dress.  I  have  an  idea  the  Pol- 
der men  don't." 

At  the  stubborn  expression  which  possessed  him 
she  exclaimed  sharply,  "  If  you  tell  me  that  the  Colo- 
nel or  Gary  Dilkes  were  always  formally  dressed  at 
dinner  I  think  I'll  scream."  Nevertheless,  he  had 
no  intention  of  relinquishing  a  habit  of  years  for  the 
Polders,  or  the  north  end  of  the  city;  and  when, 
later,  he  came  down  into  the  hall,  where  the  man 
stood  with  his  silk  hat  and  cape,  Mariana  put  an 
arm  about  his  shoulders.  "  I  wish  every  one  could  be 
as  beautiful  as  yourself,"  she  told  him.  They  passed 
the  Square,  bathed  in  dusk  and  the  beginning  shim- 
mer of  arc  lights,  went  through  the  flattened  and 
faintly  thunderous  arch  of  a  railway,  and  turned 
into  a  broad  asphalt  street,  on  which  wide,  glisten- 
ing bulk  windows  gave  place  to  sombre  shops  with 
lurid,  flame-streaked  vistas,  and  continuous  resi- 
dences beyond.  Howat  Penny  gazed  curiously  at 
the  tall,  narrow  dwellings,  often  a  continuous,  simi- 
lar fa£ade  from  street  corner  to  corner,  then  diversi- 
fied in  elaborate,  individual  design.  All,  however, 
had  deep  stone  steps  leading  to  the  sidewalk, 
thronged  with  figures  in  airy  white  dresses,  coatless 
men  smoking  contentedly;  there  was  a  constant 
light  vibration  of  laughing  voices  and  subdued  call- 
ing, and  the  fainter  strains  of  mechanical  music,  the 

311 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

beat  of  popular  marches  and  attenuated  voices  of 
celebrated  singers. 

The  motor  turned  suddenly  in  to  the  curb,  and 
they  got  out.  The  house  before  them,  like  its  fel- 
lows, was  entered  from  a  high  flight  of  red  sandstone 
steps,  and  was  built  of  a  smooth,  soapy  green  stone, 
with  red  coursings,  an  elaborate  cornice  and  tiled 
Italian  roof.  No  one  was  sitting  outside,  although 
there  was  a  pile  of  circular,  grass-woven  cushions ; 
and  Howat  sharply  rang  the  bell.  A  maid  in 
aproned  black  admitted  them  into  a  narrow  hall, 
from  which  stairs  mounted  with  a  carved  rail  ter- 
minating in  a  newel  post  supporting  an  almost  life- 
sized  bronze  nymph,  whose  flowing  hair  was  encircled 
by  a  wreath  of  electrically  lit  flowers,  and  who  held  a 
dully  shining  sheaf  of  jonquils.  There  was  no  other 
illumination,  and  Howat  Penny  discovered  in  the 
obscurity  a  high  mirror  bristling  with  elk  horns,  on 
which  hung  various  hats  and  outer  garments.  He 
stood  helpless,  apparently,  in  an  attitude  he  found 
impossible  to  deny  himself,  waiting  to  be  relieved  of 
his  coverings,  when  Mariana  whispered  angrily, 
"  Don't  be  so  rotten,  Howat." 

Finally  the  maid  secured  his  cape,  and  he  was 
conscious  of  a  stir  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  Im- 
mediately after,  a  shrill,  subdued  voice  carried  to 
where  he  stood.  "  I  told  you,"  it  said  violently, 
".  .  .  dress  suit."  There  was  an  answering  mur- 
mur, in  which  he  could  distinguish  James  Polder's 
impatient  tones.  The  latter  descended,  and  flooded 
312 


THE  METAL 


the  hall  with  light  from  a  globe  in  the  ceiling. 
He  was  garbed  in  blue  serge  and  flannels.  "  Isa- 
bella," he  stated  directly,  belligerently  even,  "  thinks 
we  ought  to  change  our  clothes;  but  we  never  do, 
and  I  wouldn't  hear  of  —  of  lying  for  effect." 
Howat  Penny's  dislike  for  him  pleasantly  increased. 
Mariana,  in  rose  crepe  with  a  soft,  dull  gold  girdle 
and  long,  trumpet-like  sleeves  of  flowered  gauze, 
smiled  at  him  warmly.  "  It  is  a  harmless  pose  of 
Howat's,"  she  explained :  '*  a  concession  to  the 
ghosts  of  the  past."  She  patted  the  elder  on  the 
shoulder. 

Above,  James  Polder  ushered  them  into  a  room 
hung  with  crimson  and  gilt  stamped  paper,  an  elab- 
orately fretted  cherry  mantel  about  the  asbestos 
rectangle  of  an  artificial  hearth,  and  a  multitude  of 
chairs  and  divans  shrouded  in  linen.  There  was  an 
upright,  ebonized  piano  draped  in  a  fringed,  Roman 
scarf  and  holding  a  towering  jar  of  roses,  a  great, 
carved  easel  with  a  painstaking,  smooth  oil  painting 
of  a  dark  man  in  an  attitude  of  fixed  dignity,  and  an 
expensively  cased  talking  machine.  The  original, 
evidently,  of  the  portrait,  and  a  small,  rotund  woman 
in  mauve  brocade,  advanced  to  meet  them.  Young 
Polder  said,  "  My  mother  and  father.  This  is  Miss 
Jannan  and  Mr.  Howat  Penny." 

The  latter  saw  that  Mrs.  Byron  Polder  was  dis- 
tinctly nervous;  she  twisted  the  diamonds  that  occu- 
pied a  not  inconsiderable  portion  of  her  short  fin- 
gers, and  smiled  rigidly.  "  I  am  very  pleased  to 

SIS 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


meet  you,  Miss  Jannan,"  she  proceeded ;  "  and  Mr. 
Penny  too."  She  held  out  a  hand,  then  half  with- 
drew it ;  but  Mariana  captured  it  in  her  direct  palm. 
"  Thank  you,"  she  replied.  Byron  Polder  had  a 
more  confident  poise;  in  reality  there  was  a  per- 
ceptible chill  in  his  manner.  He  was  a  handsome 
man,  with  a  cleanly-shaven  face,  introspective  brown 
eyes  and  a  petulant,  drooping  mouth.  "  You  have 
succeeded  in  finding  your  way  to  my  house,"  he  pro- 
nounced enigmatically,  gazing  at  Howat  Penny. 

It  was,  Howat  thought,  just  such  an  ill-bred  ut- 
terance as  he  had  looked  for  from  Byron  Polder; 
and  he  made  no  effort  to  mitigate  it.  He  was  con- 
scious of,  and  resolutely  ignored,  Mariana's  veiled 
entreaty.  "  You  don't  know  my  girls,"  Mrs.  Polder 
continued  rapidly.  "  Here  is  Isabella,  and  Kate 
will  be  along  for  dinner."  A  tall,  bony  woman  of, 
perhaps,  thirty-five,  in  an  appalling  complication  of 
ribbons  and  silk,  moved  forward  with  a  conventional 
sentence.  In  her,  Howat's  appraisements  went  on, 
virginity  had  been  perpetuated  in  a  captious  ob- 
session. They  stood  awkwardly  silent  until  James 
Polder  exclaimed,  "  Good  heavens,  this  isn't  a  wax 
works !  Why  don't  we  sit  down  ? "  The  older 
woman  glanced  with  a  consuming  anxiety  at  Isabella, 
and  nodded  violently  toward  an  exit.  "  It's  a  quar- 
ter after  seven,"  she  said  in  a  swift  aside.  Isabella, 
correctly  disposed  on  a  chair  of  muffled  and  mysteri- 
ous line,  resolutely  ignored  the  appeal. 

"  I  didn't  suppose  you'd  be  in  the  city,"  she  ad- 
314 


THE  METAL 


dressed  Mariana ;  "  I  read  in  the  paper  that  you  had 
gone  to  Watch  Hill  with  Mrs.  Ledyard  B.  Starr." 

"  You  can  see  that  I'm  back,"  Mariana  smiled. 
"  The  family,  of  course,  are  at  Andalusia,  but  we 
have  all  been  in  town  the  past  days.  I  am  really 
staying  with  Howat  at  Shadrach." 

"  The  former  location  of  Shadrach  Furnace,  I  be- 
lieve," Byron  Polder  stated.  "  Now  in  ruins." 
Howat  Penny  accurately  gathered  that  the  other 
inferred  the  collapse  not  only  of  the  Furnace.  He 
secured  the  single  glass  in  his  eye  and  looked  delib- 
erately around.  Isabella  watched  him  with  a  tense 
interest.  Mrs.  Polder  gave  a  short,  perturbed  gig- 
gle. "  Just  like  George  Arliss,"  she  told  her  son. 
James  Polder,  on  the  edge  of  a  chair,  was  twitching 
with  repressed  uneasiness;  he  frowned  antagonis- 
tically and  then  gazed  appealingly  at  Mariana.  "  I 
have  been  introduced  to  your  cousin,  Miss  Provost," 
Isabella  again  took  up  her  social  thread.  "  A  dear 
friend  of  mine,  a  talented  actress,  gave  a  recitation 
at  Miss  Provost's  request,  for  suffrage." 

"  Eliza's  splendid,"  Mariana  pronounced. 

"  Peter  Jannan  Provost's  daughter,"  Byron  Polder 
added  fully.  But  his  voice  indicated  that  even  more, 
darkly  unfavourable,  might  be  revealed.  "  Miss 
Provost  has  been  under  arrest."  Damn  the  solemn 
ass,  Howat  Penny  thought.  "  She's  been  in  the  jug 
twice  now,"  Mariana  went  on  cheerfully ;  "  Kings- 
frere  had  to  put  up  a  bond  the  last  time."  Mrs. 
Polder  was  rapidly  regaining  her  ease.  "  Wasn't 

515 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


her  mamma  scared  ?  "  she  inquired.  "  I'd  go  on  if 
Isabella  was  taken  up." 

"  Imagine  Isabella !  "  Jim  Polder  exploded.  "  It's 
quite  the  thing,"  that  individual  asserted.  "  Isa- 
bella," her  mother  declared,  "  it  is  twenty-five  past 
seven.  I  wish  you'd  go  out  and  see  where  dinner  is." 
She  rose  with  an  expression  of  mingled  surprise  and 
pain.  "  Really,  mother,"  she  said,  "  that  is  an  ex- 
traordinary request."  Her  brother  snorted.  There 
was  a  sudden  muffled  clamour  of  chimes  from  below, 
and  Mrs.  Polder  gave  a  sigh  of  relief.  "  I  didn't 
want  it  spoiled,"  she  explained,  descending ;  "  Jim 
would  be  wild  after  all  his  eagerness  to  have  things 
nice." 

The  dining  room,  resembling  all  the  interior,  was 
long  and  narrow,  and  had  a  high  ceiling  in  varnished 
light  wood.  Byron  Polder  faced  his  wife  at  the  op- 
posite end  of  the  table.  Howat  Penny  sat  beside 
Mariana,  with  Jim  Polder  across ;  Isabella  was  on 
her  mother's  right ;  and  a  waiting  place  was  filled  by 
a  dark,  surprisingly  beautiful  girl.  "  This  is  Kate," 
Mrs.  Polder  said  proudly.  Howat  thought  he  had 
not  seen  such  a  handsome  female  for  years.  She 
wore  a  ruffled,  transparent  crepe  de  Chine  waist  that 
clung  in  frank  curves  to  full,  graceful  shoulders ;  her 
hair  was  a  lustrous,  black  coil,  and  she  had  sultry, 
topaz  eyes  and  a  mouth  drooping  like  her  father's, 
but  more  warmly  bowed.  Kate  Polder  met  the  direct 
pleasure  of  his  inspection  with  a  privately  conveyed 
admission  that  she  understood  and  subscribed  to  it. 
316 


THE  METAL 


Here,  at  last,  was  a  girl  up  to  the  standard  of  old 
days,  the  divinity  of  Scalchi  herself.  She  would  have 
created  a  sensation  in  Delmonico's,  the  real  Del- 
monico's.  Gary  and  the  Colonel  — 

"  We  think  they're  elegant,"  Mrs.  Polder's  voice 
broke  in  on  his  revery.  He  looked  up  and  saw  a 
great  fish  on  a  huge  platter  before  his  host,  a  fish  in 
surprising  semblance  to  life,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
rosettes  of  lemon,  the  green  bed,  which  surrounded 
it.  "  Gracious,  no,"  she  answered  Mariana's  query ; 
"  we  don't  do  it  home.  Mr.  Polder  has  them  sent 
from  a  Rathskeller  down  town.  He'll  make  a  meal 
off  one."  The  latter  was  plainly  chagrined  at  this 
light  thrown  on  his  petty  appetites.  He  assumed 
an  air  of  complete  detachment  in  the  portioning  of 
the  dish;  but,  at  the  same  time,  managed  to  supply 
himself  liberally.  The  conversation  was  sporadic. 
Howat  Penny  found  the  dinner  lavish,  and  divided  his 
attention  between  it  and  Kate  Polder.  James  and 
Mariana  addressed  general  remarks  to  the  table  at 
succeeding  intervals.  Mr.  Polder  gloomed,  and  Isa- 
bella went  through  the  gestures,  the  accents,  of  the 
occasion  with  utter  correctness.  Howat  studied 
Mariana,  but  he  was  unable  to  discover  her 
thoughts ;  she  was  smiling  and  cordial ;  and  apolo- 
gized for  losing  her  slipper.  "  I  always  do,"  she 
explained.  James  Polder  hastily  rose,  and  came 
around  to  assist  her.  The  dinner  was  at  an  end,  and 
she  stood  with  a  slim,  silken  foot  outheld  for  him  to 
replace  the  fragile  object  of  search. 

S17 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


They  reassembled  above,  and  Mrs.  Polder  sug- 
gested music.  "  My  son  says  you  are  very  fond  of 
good  music,"  she  addressed  Howat  Penny.  "  I  can 
tell  you  it  is  a  lovely  taste.  We  have  the  prettiest 
records  that  come.  Isabella,  put  on  Hark,  Hark, 
the  Lark"  She  obediently  rose,  and,  revolving  the 
handle  of  the  talking  machine,  fixed  the  grooved,  rub- 
ber disk  and  needle.  Howat  listened  with  a  stony 
countenance  to  the  ensuing  strains.  Such  instru- 
ments were  his  particular  detestation.  Mrs.  Polder 
waved  her  hand  dreamily.  "  Now,"  she  said,  "  the 
Sextette,  and  The  End  of  a  Perfect  Day.  No, 
Mr.  Penny  would  like  to  hear  Salome,  I'm  sure, 
with  all  those  cymbals  and  creepy  Eastern  tunes." 
An  orgy  of  sound  followed,  applauded  —  perversely, 
he  was  certain  —  by  Mariana.  James,  he  saw,  was 
as  uneasy  as  himself;  but  for  a  totally  different  rea- 
son. He  gazed  at  Mariana  with  a  fierce  devotion 
patent  to  the  most  casual  eye;  his  expression  was 
tormented  with  concern  and  longing. 

"  When  do  you  return  to  Harrisburg? "  Byron 
Polder  inquired.  "  My  son,"  he  went  on  to  Howat 
Penny,  "  is  a  practical  iron  man.  I  say  iron,  al- 
though that  is  no  longer  the  phrase,  because  of  nat- 
ural associations.  The  present  system  of  the  manu- 
facture of  steel,  as  you  doubtless  know,  evolved  from 
the  old  Ironmasters,  of  whose  blood  James  has  a  gen- 
erous share.  We  look  to  him  to  re-establish,  er  —  a 
departed  importance.  I  need  say  no  more."  His 
women's  anxiety  at  this  trend  of  speech  became  pain- 
318 


THE  METAL 


ful.  "  Play  a  right  lively  piece,"  Mrs.  Polder  inter- 
jected, and  an  intolerable  cacophony  of  banjoes  fol- 
lowed, making  conversation  futile. 

The  evening,  Howat  Penny  felt,  was  a  considerable 
success ;  by  heaven,  Mariana  would  never  get  herself 
into  this !  Byron  Polder's  innuendoes  must  have 
annoyed  her  nicely.  When  the  mechanical  disturb- 
ance ceased,  Mrs.  Polder  said,  "  I  believe  that's  the 
bell."  Evidently  she  had  been  correct,  for,  immedi- 
ately after,  a  young  woman  with  bright  gold  hair, 
and  a  mobile,  pink  countenance  unceremoniously  en- 
tered the  room.  "  Oh ! "  she  exclaimed,  in  an  in- 
stinctively statuesque  surprise ;  *'  I  didn't  know  you 
were  entertaining  company." 

"  Come  right  in,  Harriet,"  Mrs.  Polder  heartily 
proclaimed.  "  Miss  Jannan,  Mr.  Penny,  this  is  Isa- 
bella's friend,  Harriet  de  Barry,  a  near  neighbour 
and  a  sweet  girl.  She's  an  actress,  too;  under- 
studies Vivian  Blane ;  and  is  better,  lots  say,  than  the 
lead." 

Harriet  de  Barry  made  a  comprehensive  gesture. 
"  I  wanted  to  say  good-bye  to  you  all,"  she  an- 
nounced. "  I  am  going  on  tour.  Leave  at  midnight. 
Just  had  a  wire  from  Mrs.  Blane."  There  were 
polite  Polder  exclamations,  regret,  congratulations; 
through  which  the  son  of  the  house  moodily  gazed 
at  the  carpet.  "  Haven't  you  anything  to  say  to 
Hatty  ?  "  his  mother  demanded.  "  And  after  all  the 
passes  she  sent  you."  Howat  Penny  saw  Mariana's 
gaze  rest  swiftly  on  the  latest  comer's  obvious  good 

319 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PEN  NTS 


looks ;  and  the  scrutiny,  he  was  certain,  held  a  cold 
feminine  appraisal.  As  they  descended  to  leave  Ma- 
riana lingered  on  the  stairs  with  Jim.  The  latter 
closed  the  door  of  the  public  motor  with  a  low,  in- 
tense mutter;  and,  moving  away,  Howat  Penny  lit  a 
cigarette  with  a  breath  of  audible  relief. 

"  I  don't  know  which  I  detest  most,"  Mariana  de- 
clared viciously,  "  you  or  myself." 

"  You  might  include  that  fish,"  he  added  plain- 
tively. She  gazed  at  him  in  cold  contempt,  with  an 
ugly,  protruding  lip.  Nothing  else  was  said  until 
they  were  in  the  opened  room  at  the  Jannans.  Ma- 
riana flung  herself  on  a  broad  divan,  with  her  nar- 
rowed gaze  fixed  on  the  points  of  her  slippers. 
"  Comfortable,  isn't  it,"  she  addressed  him ;  "  this 
feeling  of  superiority?"  He  placidly  nodded,  in- 
wardly highly  pleased.  "  I  wish  I'd  married  Jim  the 
first  week  I  knew  him,  without  trying  to  be  so  dam' 
admirable.  Howat,  what  is  it  that  makes  people 
what  they  are,  and  aren't?"  It  was,  he  told  her, 
difficult  to  express;  but  it  had  to  do  with  inherited 
associations.  "  Mrs.  Polder  is  as  kind  as  possible," 
she  asserted ;  "  and  I  could  see  that  you  were  ab- 
sorbed in  Kate." 

"  Really,  Mariana,"  he  protested,  "  at  times  you 
are  a  little  rough.  She  is  a  very  fine  girl;  in  fact, 
reminds  me  of  Scalchi.  Old  Byron,  though,  what  — 
a  regular  catafalque !  "  A  blundering  step  mounted 
to  the  stair;  Kingsfrere  entered  and  stood  wavering 
and  concerned,  the  collar  wilted  and  a  gaiter  miss- 
320 


THE  METAL 


ing.  "  Ought  to  do  something  about  the  front 
door,"  he  asserted ;  "  frightful  condition,  no  paint ; 
and  full  of  splinters.  Very  plump  splinters,"  he 
specified,  examining  a  hand.  Mariana  surveyed  him 
coolly,  thoroughly.  "Sweet,  isn't  he?"  she  re- 
marked. "  Kingsfrere  Gilbert  Todd  Jannan." 

"  That's  absolutely  all,"  that  individual  assured 
her.  "  Except  if  you  want  to  add  Sturgeon ;  some 
do.  Hullow,  Howat !  Grand  old  boy,  Howat,"  he 
told  her.  "  But  if  he  says  I'm  drunk,  I  will  tell  you 
one  of  Bundy's  stories  about  him.  This  —  this  ele- 
gant deception  tremendous  noise  with  the  song 
birds."  He  sat  abruptly  on  a  providentially  con- 
venient chair.  There,  limply,  he  hiccoughed. 
"  Sweet,"  Mariana  repeated.  Kingsfrere  finally 
rose,  and,  with  a  friendly  wave,  wandered  from  the 
room. 

"  It  was  good  of  you  to  take  me,  Howat,"  she  told 
him  wearily.  "  Although,  now,  I  can  see  that  you 
went  willingly  enough.  You  thought  it  would  cure 
me.  But  of  what,  Howat  —  of  love?  Of  a  feeling 
that,  perhaps,  I'd  found  a  reason  for  living?  " 

A  decidedly  uncomfortable  feeling,  doubt,  invaded 
him.  He  had  an  unjustified  sense  of  meddling,  of 
blundering  into  a  paramount  situation  to  which  he 
lacked  the  key.  He  had  done  nothing  debatable,  he 
assured  himself;  Mariana's  inherent,  well  —  preju- 
dices, couldn't  be  charged  to  him.  In  the  room 
where  he  was  to  sleep  the  uneasiness  followed  him. 
She  was  his  greatest,  his  only  concern.  Howat  Penny 

321 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


reviewed  his  desire  for  her,  his  preference  for  a  Ma-' 
riana  untouched  by  the  common  surge  of  living. 
He  recalled  the  discontent,  the  feeling  of  sterility, 
that  had  lately  possessed  him ;  the  suspicion  that  his 
life  had  been  in  vain.  All  his  philosophy,  his  ac- 
cumulated convictions,  were  involved;  and,  tie  in 
hand,  he  sat  endeavouring  to  pierce  the  confusion 
of  his  ideas. 

He  was  conscious  of  a  slow  change  gathering 
within  him;  and,  in  itself,  that  consciousness  was 
disturbing.  It  had  a  vaguely  dark,  chill  aspect. 
He  shivered,  in  the  room  super-heated  by  summer; 
his  blood  ran  thinner  and  cold.  Howat  Penny 
had  a  sudden,  startling  sense  of  his  utter  lone- 
liness; there  was  absolutely  no  one,  now,  to  whom 
he  could  turn  for  the  understanding  born  of  long 
and  intimately  affectionate  association.  Mariana 
was  lost  to  him  in  her  own  poignant  affair  .  .  . 
No  children.  So  many,  so  much,  dead.  His  coun- 
tenance, however,  grew  firm  with  the  determination 
that  age  should  not  find  him  a  coward.  He  had 
always  been  bitterly  contemptuous  of  the  men  that, 
^urfeiting  their  appetites,  showed  at  the  impotent 
last  a  cheap  repentance.  But  he  had  done  nothing 
pointedly  wrong ;  he  had  —  the  inversion  repeated 
itself  —  done  nothing. 


322 


XXVII 

AShadrach  his  customary  decision  returned; 
he  went  about,  or  sat  reading,  well-ordered, 
cool-appearing,  dogmatic.  He  learned  from 
the  Evening  Post  that  Mariana  was  at  Warren- 
ton.  She  had  carefully  described  to  him  the  Vir- 
ginia country  life,  the  gaiety  and  hard  riding  of 
the  transplanted  English  colonies;  and  he  pic- 
tured her  at  the  successive  horse  shows,  in  the  bril- 
liant groups  under  the  Doric  columns  of  the  por- 
ticoes. Then,  he  saw,  she  had  gone  north ;  he  found 
her  picture  in  a  realistic  Egyptian  costume  with 
bare,  painted  legs  at  an  extravagant  ball.  He 
studied  her  countenance,  magnifying  it  with  a  read- 
ing glass;  but  he  saw  nothing  beyond  a  surface  en- 
joyment of  the  moment. 

Then,  to  his  utter  surprise,  on  an  evening  after 
dinner,  when  he  was  seated  in  the  settling  dusk  of 
the  porch,  intent  on  the  grey  movements  of  his  fa- 
miliar owls,  a  quick  step  mounted  the  path,  and 
James  Polder  appeared. 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  about  Miss  Jannan,"  the  lat- 
ter stated  frankly  and  at  once.  Howat  Penny 
cleared  his  throat  sharply.  "  I  believe  she  is  well," 
he  stated  formally.  "  You  will  find  it  cooler  here." 
It  struck  him  that  the  young  man  was  not  deficient 

323 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


in  that  particular.  More,  of  still  greater  direct- 
ness, followed.  "  I  suppose  you  know,"  Polder 
stated,  "  that  I  want  to  marry  her  .  .  .  and  she 
won't." 

"  I  had  gathered  something  of  the  sort,"  the 
other  admitted.  "  It's  natural,  in  a  way."  Polder 
proceeded  gloomily :  "  I'd  take  her  away  from  so 
much.  And,  yet,  look  here  —  you  can  shut  me  up 
if  you  like  —  what's  it  all  about  ?  Can  you  tell  me 
that?"  Howat  Penny  couldn't.  "  I'm  not  to  blame 
for  that  old  mess  any  more  than  you.  And  it's  not 
my  fault  if  something  of  —  of  which  you  think  so 
much  came  to  me  by  the  back  door.  I've  always 
wanted  what  Mariana  is,"  he  burst  out,  "  and  I 
have  never  been  satisfied  with  what  I  could  get. 
And  when  I  saw  her,  hell  —  what's  the  use ! 

"  Any  one  in  Harrisburg  will  tell  you  I  am  a 
good  man,"  he  reiterated,  at  a  slightly  different  an- 
gle. "  When  you  kick  through  out  of  that  racket 
of  hunkies  and  steel  you've  done  something.  Soon 
I'll  be  getting  five  or  six  thousand."  He  paused,  and 
the  other  said  dryly,  "  Admirable."  The  phrase 
seemed  to  him  inadequate;  it  sounded  in  his  ear  as 
unpleasantly  as  a  false  note.  Yet  he  was  powerless 
to  alter  it,  change  its  brusque  accent.  The  per- 
sonal tone  of  Polder's  revelations  was  inherently  dis- 
tasteful to  him.  He  said,  rising,  "  If  you  will  ex- 
cuse me  I'll  tell  Rudolph  you  will  be  here." 

"But  I  won't,"  Polder  replied;  "there's  a  train 
back  at  eleven.  I  have  to  be  at  the  mills  for  the 
324 


THE  METAL 


day  shift  to-morrow.  I  came  out  because  I  had 
to  talk  a  little  about  Mariana."  He  had  deserted 
the  more  formal  address.  *'  And  I  wanted  to  tell 
some  one  connected  with  her  that  I  have  gimp  of  my 
own.  I  know  why  she  won't  marry  me,  and  it's  a 
small  reason ;  it  would  be  small  in  — " 

"  Hold  up,"  Howat  Penny  interrupted,  incensed. 
"  Am  I  to  understand  that  you  came  here  to  com- 
plain about  Miss  Jannan's  conduct?  That  won't  do, 
you  know." 

"  It's  a  small  reason,"  the  other  insisted  hotly. 
"  Hardly  more  than  the  idiotic  fact  that  I'm  not  in 
the  Social  Register.  I  am  ashamed  of  her,  and  I 
said  so.  It  was  so  little  that  I  told  her  I  wouldn't 
argue.  She  could  go  to  the  devil." 

"  Really,"  the  other  observed,  "  really,  I  shall 
have  to  ask  you  to  control  your  language  or  leave." 

"  I  wonder  if  she  will?  "  the  surprising  James  Pol- 
der sombrely  speculated.  "  I  wonder  if  I  am?  But 
there  are  other  women,  with  better  hearts." 

"Are  we  to  construe  this  as  a  threat?"  Howat 
asked  in  a  delicately  balanced  tone. 

"  For  God's  sake,"  he  begged,  "  can't  you  be  hu- 
man ! "  The  other  suddenly  recalled  Mariana's  im- 
ploring anger  at  the  Polders.  "  Don't  be  so  rotten, 
Howat."  The  confusion  of  his  valuations,  his  ha- 
bitual attitudes  of  thought,  returned.  His  gaze 
strayed  to  the  obscured  ruin  of  Shadrach  Furnace, 
at  once  a  monument  of  departed  vigour  and  present 
disintegration.  Perhaps,  just  as  the  energy  had 

325 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


expired  in  the  Furnace,  it  had  seeped  from  him.  It 
might  be  that  he  was  only  a  sere  husk,  a  dry  bun- 
dle of  inhibitions,  insensible  to  the  green  humanity 
of  life. 

"  I  couldn't  go  on  my  knees  to  anything,"  the 
younger  took  up  his  burden.  "  Wrong  or  not  it  is 
the  way  I'm  made.  I'd  not  hang  about  where  I 
wasn't  wanted.  Although  you  mightn't  think  it. 
And  I  am  sorry  I  came  here.  I  do  things  like  that 
all  the  time;  I  mean  I  do,  say,  exactly  the  opposite 
of  what  I  plan.  You'll  think  I  am  a  braying  ass, 
of  course." 

"  Stop  for  a  breath,"  Howat  Penny  recom- 
mended ;  "  a  breath,  and  a  cigarette."  He  extended 
his  case;  and,  in  place  of  taking  a  cigarette,  Polder 
examined  the  case  resentfully.  "  There  is  it,"  he 
declared ;  "  correct,  like  all  the  rest  of  you.  And 
it's  only  old  leather.  But  mine  would  be  different. 
I  could  sink  and  Mariana  wouldn't  put  out  a  hand 
just  on  account  of  that.  It's  wrong,"  he  insisted. 
Expressed  in  that  manner  it  did  seem  to  Howat 
Penny  a  small  reason  for  the  withholding  of  any 
paramount  salvation.  Yet,  he  told  himself,  he  had 
no  intention,  desire,  to  undertake  the  weight  of  any 
reformation.  A  futile  effort,  he  added,  with  his 
vague  consciousness  of  implacable  destiny,  his  dim 
sense  of  man  moved  from  without,  in  locked  pro- 
gression. Polder  was  young,  rebellious ;  but  he 
could  grow  older;  he  would  grow  older  and  compre- 
hend ;  or  else  beat  himself  to  death  on  obdurate  cir- 
326 


THE  METAL 


cumstance.  What  concerned  Howat  was  the  hope 
that  Mariana  would  be  no  further  involved  in  either 
process.  She  too  had  this  to  learn  —  that,  in  the 
end,  blood  was  stronger  than  will;  the  dead  were 
terribly  potent.  He  had,  even,  no  inclination  to  say 
any  of  this  to  the  man  frowning  in  the  dusk  at 
his  side.  It  would  be  useless,  a  mere  preaching. 
An  expression,  too,  of  a  slight  but  actual  sympathy 
for  James  Polder  would  be  misleading.  In  the  main 
Howat  was  entirely  careless  of  what  might  happen 
to  the  other;  it  was  only  where,  unfortunately,  he 
touched  Mariana  that  he  entered  into  the  elder's 
world.  He  would  sacrifice  him  for  Mariana  in  an 
instant.  Polder  rose. 

"  I  must  leave,"  he  announced.  Howat  Penny 
expressed  no  regret,  and  the  other  hesitated  awk- 
wardly. "  It's  no  use !  "  he  finally  exclaimed.  "  I 
can't  reach  you;  as  if  one  of  us  spoke  Patagonian. 
Hellish,  it  seems  to  me."  He  turned  and  disap- 
peared, as  violently  as  he  had  come,  over  the  ob- 
scurity of  the  lawn.  A  reddish,  misshapen  moon 
hung  low  in  the  sky,  and  gave  the  aging  man  an 
extraordinarily  vivid  impression  of  dead  planets, 
unthinkable  wastes  of  time,  illimitable  systems  and 
spaces.  James  Polder's  passionate  resentment,  his 
own  emotion,  were  no  more  articulate  than  the  thin 
whirring  of  the  locusts.  He  went  quickly  into  the 
house,  to  the  warm  glow  of  his  lamp,  the  memories 
of  his  pictures,  the  figurine  in  baked  clay  with 
Hermes'  wand  of  victory. 

327 


XXVIII 

THE  heat  dragged  through  the  remainder  of 
August  and  filled  September  with  steaming 
days  and  heavy  nights,  followed  by  driving 
grey  storms  and  premonitory,  chill  dawns.  A 
period  of  sunny  tranquillity  succeeded,  but  crimson 
blots  of  sumach,  the  warmer  tone  of  maples,  made 
it  evident  that  summer  had  lapsed.  Honduras 
mulched  the  strawberries,  and  set  new  teeth  in  his 
lawn  rakes.  The  days  passed  without  feature,  or 
word  from  Mariana,  and  Howat  Penny  fell  into  an 
almost  slumberous  monotony  of  existence.  It  was 
not  unpleasant ;  occupied  with  small  duties,  intent  on 
his  papers,  or  wandering  in  a  past  that  seemed  to 
grow  clearer,  rather  than  fade,  as  time  multiplied, 
he  maintained  his  erect,  carefully  ordered  existence. 
Then,  among  his  mail,  he  found  a  large,  fbrmal- 
appearing  envelope  which  he  opened  with  a  mild 
curiosity.  His  attitude  of  detachment  was  soon 
dispelled. 

Mrs.  Corinne  de  Barry  desired  the  pleasure  of  his 
attendance  at  the  wedding  of  her  daughter,  Harriet, 
to  James  Polder.  Details,  a  church  and  hour,  were 
appended.  The  headlong  young  man,  he  thought, 
with  a  smile.  Mariana  was  well  out  of  that.  He 
828 


had  been  wise  in  saying  nothing  to  Charlotte;  the 
thing  had  expired  naturally.  But,  irrationally,  he 
thought  of  Polder  with  a  trace  of  contempt  —  a 
man  who  had,  unquestionably,  possessed  Mariana 
Jannan's  regard  marrying  the  pink-faced  under- 
study to  a  second-rate  emotional  actress !  In  a 
way  it  made  him  cross ;  the  fellow  should  have  shown 
a  —  a  greater  appreciation,  delicacy.  "  Common- 
place," he  said  decisively,  aloud.  The  following  day 
Mariana  herself  appeared,  with  a  touch  of  sable  and 
a  small,  wickedly  becoming  hat. 

He  was  at  lunch ;  and,  without  delay,  she  took  the 
place  smilingly  laid  for  her  by  Rudolph.  It  was 
characteristic  that  she  made  no  pretence  of  con- 
cealing the  reason  that  had  brought  her  to  Shad- 
rach.  "  Jim's  going  to  marry  that  Harriet  de 
Barry,"  she  said  at  once,  nicely  casual.  "  I  had  a 
card,"  he  informed  her.  "  It's  to  be  on  the  thir- 
tieth," Mariana  proceeded,  "  at  eight  o'clock  and  in 
church.  Of  course  you  are  going." 

"  Not  at  all  of  course,"  he  replied  energetically. 
"  And  you'll  stay  away  for  the  plainest  decency." 

"  We  will  go  together,"  she  proceeded  calmly. 
"  I  want  to  see  Jim  married,  happy."  She  gazed 
at  him  with  narrowed  eyes. 

"  Mariana,"  he  told  her,  "  that's  a  shameful  lie. 
It  is  cold,  feminine  curiosity.  It's  worse  —  the  only 
vulgar  thing  I  can  remember  your  considering.  I 
won't  hear  of  it."  He  debated  the  wisdom  of 
recounting  James  Polder's  last  visit  to  Shadrach 

329 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


and  decided  in  the  negative.  "  Let  the  young  man 
depart  with  his  Harriet  in  peace." 

"  It's  sickening,  isn't  it  ?  "  she  queried.  "  And 
yet  it  is  so  like  Jim.  He  had  a  very  objectional 
idea  of  his  dignity;  he  was  sensitive  in  a  way  that 
made  me  impatient.  He  couldn't  forget  himself,  you 
see.  That  helped  to  make  it  difficult  for  me;  I 
wasn't  used  to  it ;  his  feelings  were  always  being  dam- 
aged." 

Howat  Penny  nodded.  "  You'll  recall  I  empha- 
sized that."  Mariana  looked  worn  by  her  gaiety, 
he  decided,  white;  for  the  first  time  in  his  memory 
she  seemed  older  than  her  actual  years.  Her 
friends,  he  knew,  her  existence,  bore  the  general  ap- 
pellation, fast;  Howat  had  no  share  in  the  con- 
demnatory aspect  of  the  term,  but  he  realized  that 
it  had  a  literal  application.  Their  pace  was  fever- 
ish, and  Mariana  plainly  showed  its  effects.  Her 
voice,  already  noted  as  more  mature,  had,  he  was 
sure,  hardened.  She  dabbled  her  lips  thickly  with 
a  rouge  stick.  "  Mariana,"  he  said  querulously,  "  I 
wish  you'd  stop  this  puppet  dance  you're  leading. 
I  wish  you  would  marry." 

"  I  tried  to,"  she  coolly  replied,  "  but  you  spoiled 
my  young  dream  of  happiness." 

"  That  isn't  true,"  he  asserted  sharply,  per- 
turbed. "  Anything  that  happened,  or  didn't  hap- 
pen, was  only  the  result  of  yourself,  of  what  you 
are.  I  am  extremely  anxious  to  have  you  settled, 
and  your  legs  out  of  the  Sunday  papers.  I  —  I  am 
330 


THE  METAL 


opposed  to  your  present  existence;  it's  gone  on  too 
long.  I  believe  I'd  rather  see  you  orating  on  the 
streets,  like  Eliza  Provost.  And,  by  thunder,  I 
never  thought  I  should  come  to  that!  Champagne 
and  those  damnable  syncopated  tunes  played  by  hys- 
terical niggers  make  a  poor  jig."  He  spoke  im- 
petuously, unconscious  of  any  reversal  of  previous 
judgments,  opinions. 

"  You  are  so  difficult  to  please,  Howat,"  she  said 
wearily ;  "  you  were  aghast  at  the  thought  of  my 
marrying  James,  and  now  you  are  complaining  of 
the  natural  alternative.  The  truth  is,"  she  added 
brutally,  "  you  are  old-fashioned ;  you  think  life 
goes  on  just  as  it  did  when  the  Academy  of  Music 
was  the  centre  of  your  world.  And  nothing  is  the 
same."  She  rose,  and,  with  a  lighted  cigarette  and 
half-shut  eyes,  fell  into  a  rhythmic  step  of  sensuous 
abandon.  "  You  see,"  she  remarked,  pausing.  An 
increasing  dread  for  her  filled  his  heart.  He  felt, 
in  response  to  her  challenge,  a  sudden  bewilderment 
in  the  world  of  to-day.  Things,  Howat  Penny  told 
himself,  were  marching  to  the  devil.  He  said  this 
irritably,  loud,  and  she  laughed.  "  I'm  going  in  by 
an  early  train,"  she  proceeded.  "  We  have  left  the 
country.  Will  you  stop  for  me  on  the  thirtieth? 
Early,  Howat,  so  we  can  be  sure  of  a  good  place." 

His  helplessness  included  the  subject  of  her  re- 
marks ;  he  would,  he  realized,  be  at  James  Polder's 
wedding,  but  he  persisted  in  his  opinion.  "  A  low 
piece  of  business,"  Howat  declared.  When  she  had 

SSI 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


gone  he  felt  that  he  had  not  penetrated  her  actual 
attitude  toward  Polder's  deflection.  He  had  not  for 
a  moment  got  beneath  her  casual  manner,  her  light- 
ness, pretended  or  actual.  He  wished  vehemently 
that  he  were  back  again  in  the  past  he  comprehended, 
among  the  familiar  figures  that  had  thronged  the 
notable  dinner  to  Patti,  the  women  who  had  floated 
so  graciously  through  the  poetry  of  departed 
waltzes.  He  got  out  his  albums  once  more,  scru- 
tinized through  his  polished  glass  the  programmes  of 
evenings  famous  in  song.  But  he  went  to  bed  a 
full  two  hours  earlier  than  customary ;  his  feet  posi- 
tively dragged  up  the  stairs ;  above  he  sat  strangely 
exhausted,  breathing  heavily  for,  apparently,  no 
reason  whatever. 

He  retraced,  with  Mariana,  the  course  over  the 
broad,  asphalt  way  into  the  north  end  of  the  city 
early  on  the  evening  of  the  thirtieth.  They  found 
the  church  easily,  by  reason  of  a  striped  canvas  tun- 
nel stretched  out  to  the  curb;  and  a  young  man  with 
plastered  hair  and  a  gardenia  led  them,  Mariana  on 
his  arm,  to  a  place  on  the  centre  aisle.  The  church 
had  a  high  nave  newly  vaulted  in  maple,  and  stained 
glass  windows  draped  with  smilax,  garish  in  colour 
against  electric  lights.  Above  the  altar  a  great  illu- 
minated cross  maintained  an  unsteady  flickering; 
and  —  it  was  unseasonably  cold  —  heating  steam 
pipes  gave  out  an  expanding  racket. 

The  pews  through  the  centre  filled  rapidly;  there 
was  a  low,  excited  chatter  of  voices,  and  a  spreading 
332 


THE  METAL 


tropical  expanse  of  the  dyed  feathers  and  iridescent 
foliage  of  womens'  hats.  An  overpowering  scent  of 
mingled  perfumes  rose  and  filled  the  interior.  The 
strains  of  an  organ  grew  audible,  contesting  with 
the  rattle  of  the  steam  pipes.  Howat  Penny  was  de- 
tached, critical.  Mariana,  in  a  dull,  black  satin 
wrap  of  innumerable  soft  folds  and  wide  paisley  col- 
lar slipping  from  a  sheath-like  bodice  of  gleaming, 
cut  steel  beading,  was  silent,  incurious.  He  turned 
to  her,  to  point  out  an  extravagant  figure,  but  he 
said  nothing.  She  was,  evidently,  in  no  mood  for 
the  enjoyment  of  the  ridiculous.  This  disturbed 
him ;  he  had  not  thought  that  she  would  be  so  —  so 
concerned.  He  suppressed  an  impatient  exclama- 
tion, and  returned  to  the  scrutiny  of  the  culminating 
ceremony. 

Here  was  a  sphere,  vastly  larger  than  his  own, 
to  the  habits  and  prejudices  of  which  he  was 
complete  stranger.  It  was  as  James  Polder  had 
said  —  as  if  one  or  the  other  spoke  Patagonian. 
He  had  no  wish  to  acquire  the  language  about  him; 
a  positive  antagonism  to  his  surrounding  possessed 
him,  beyond  reason.  He  thought  —  how  different 
Mariana  is  from  all  this,  and  was  annoyed  again  at 
her  serious  bearing.  Then  he  was  surprised  by  his 
presence  there  at  all;  confound  the  girl,  why  didn't 
she  play  with  her  own  kind !  Yet  only  the  other  day 
the  glimpse  she  had  given  him  of  her  natural  asso- 
ciates had  filled  him  with  dread.  His  mind,  striving 
to  encompass  the  problem  of  Mariana's  existence, 

333 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


failed  to  overcome  the  walls  built  about  him  by  time, 
by  habit.  He  gave  it  up.  The  louder  pealing  of  the 
organ  announced  immediate  developments. 

There  was  a  stir  in  the  front  of  the  church,  a 
clergyman  in  white  vestment  advanced ;  and,  at  a  sud- 
den murmurous  interest,  a  twisting  of  heads,  the  wed- 
ding procession  moved  slowly  up  the  aisle.  The 
ushers,  painstakingly  adopting  various  lengths  of 
stride  to  the  requirements  of  the  organ,  passed  in 
pairs;  then  followed  an  equal  number  of  young 
women,  among  whom  he  instantly  recognized  the 
handsome  presence  of  Kate  Polder,  in  drooping  blue 
bonnets,  with  prodigious  panniers  of  celestial-hued 
silk,  carrying  white  enamelled  shepherd's  crooks  from 
which  depended  loops  of  artificial  buttercups.  An 
open  space  ensued,  in  the  centre  of  which  advanced  a 
child  with  starched  white  skirts  springing  out  in  a 
lacy  wheel  about  spare,  bare  knees,  her  pale  yellow 
hair  tied  in  an  overwhelming  blue  bow;  and  holding 
outstretched,  in  a  species  of  intense  and  quivering 
agony,  a  white  velvet  cushion  to  which  were  pinned 
two  gold  wedding  bands. 

After  that,  Howat  Penny  thought,  the  prospective 
bride  could  furnish  only  the  diminished  spectacle  of 
an  anti-climax.  Led  by  the  virginal  presence  of  Isa- 
bella Polder  she  floated  forward  in  a  foam  of  white 
tulle  and  dragging  satin  attached  below  her  bare,  full 
shoulders.  A  floating  veil,  pinned  with  a  wreath  of 
orange  blossoms,  manifestly  wax,  covered  the  metal- 
lic gold  of  her  hair.  Her  countenance  was  unper- 
334 


THE  METAL 


turbed,  statuesque,  and  pink.  As  the  sentimental 
clamour  of  the  organ  died  the  steam  pipes  took  up, 
with  renewed  vigour,  their  utilitarian  noise.  "  Why 
don't  they  turn  them  off?  "  Mariana  exclaimed  in  his 
ear.  Personally  he  enjoyed  such  an  accompaniment 
to  what  he  designated  as  the  performance. 

He  cast  the  participants  in  their  inevitable  roles 
—  the  bride  as  prima  donna,  James  Polder  the 
heroic  tenor.  Mrs.  Corinne  de  Barry,  a  thin,  con- 
cerned figure  in  glistening  lavender,  supported  a  la- 
menting mezzo,  the  bulky,  masculine  figure  at  her 
side,  with  an  imposing  diamond  on  a  hand  like  two 
bricks,  was  beautifully  basso  — 

His  train  of  thought  was  abruptly  upset  by  James 
Polder's  familiar,  staccato  utterance.  The  precipi- 
tant young  man!  It  stamped  out  all  Howat  Pen- 
ny's humorous  condescension ;  his  sensitive  ear  was 
conscious  of  a  note,  almost,  of  desperation.  He 
avoided  looking  at  Mariana.  Damn  it,  the  thing 
unexpectedly  cut  at  him  like  a  knife.  James  Polder 
said,  "  I  will."  The  clear,  studied  tones  of  Harriet 
de  Barry,  understudy  to  Vivian  Blane,  were  spoiled 
by  the  crackling  of  steam.  Howat  moved  uneasily ; 
he  had  an  absurd  sense  of  guilt;  he  hated  the  whole 
proceeding.  What  was  that  Polder,  whose  voice 
persisted  so  darkly  in  his  hearing,  about,  getting 
himself  into  such  a  snarl?  He  recalled  what  the 
younger  had  said  on  his  porch  — "  women  with  bet- 
ter hearts."  He  had  implored  him,  Howat  Penny, 
to  be  "  more  human."  The  memory,  too,  of  the 

335 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


shaken  tone  of  that  request  bothered  him.  Now  it 
appeared  that  he  might  have  been,  well,  more  human. 
He  composed  himself,  facing  such  sentimental  illu- 
sions, into  a  savage  indifference  to  what  remained 
of  the  ceremony ;  he  ignored  the  passage  of  Polder, 
with  Harriet  Polder  on  his  arm;  the  relief  of  the 
unspeakable  child  carrying  the  white  velvet  cushion 
no  longer  in  the  manner  of  a  hot  plate;  the  united 
bridesmaids  and  ushers.  "  Thank  heaven,  that's 
over!"  he  ejaculated  in  the  deeply-comfortable 
space  of  the  Jannan's  motor  laundalet.  "  But  it 
isn't,"  Mariana  said  briefly.  She  sat  silent,  with 
her  head  turned  from  him,  through  the  remainder  of 
the  short  drive  about  Rittenhouse  Square.  Then 
she  went  abruptly  to  her  room. 

Charlotte  Jannan  and  her  oldest  child,  Sophie 
Lewis,  were  above  in  the  living  room.  The  former 
was  handsome  in  a  rigid  way ;  her  countenance, 
squarely  and  harshly  formed,  with  grey  hair  exactly 
waved  and  pinned,  had  an  expression  of  cold  firm- 
ness ;  her  voice  was  assertive  and  final.  Sophie,  ap- 
parently midway  in  appearance  between  Kingsfrere 
and  Mariana,  was  gracefully  proportioned,  and  gave 
an  impression  of  illusive  beauty  by  means  of  a  mys- 
tery of  veils,  such  as  were  caught  up  on  her  hat  now. 
They  were  discussing,  he  discovered,  the  family. 

"  It's  an  outrage,  Howat,"  Charlotte  told  him, 
"  you  never  married,  and  that  the  name  will  go. 
Here's  Mariana  at  twenty-seven,  almost,  and  noth- 
ing in  sight;  and  Sophie  flatly  refuses,  after  only 
336 


THE  METAL 


one,  to  have  another  child.  I  wish  now  I'd  had  a 
dozen.  It  is  really  the  duty  of  the  proper  people. 
And  Eliza  Provost  won't  hear  of  a  man !  I  tell 
Sophie  it's  their  own  fault  when  they  complain  about 
society  to-day.  It's  the  fault  of  this  charity  work 
and  athletics,  too;  both  extremely  levelling.  Hun- 
dreds of  women  wind  bandages  or  go  to  the  hunt 
races  and  gabble  about  votes  for  no  reason  under 
heaven  but  superior  associates." 

"  Howat  will  feelingly  curse  the  present  with  you," 
Sophie  said  rising.  "  I  must  go.  Borrow  the  mo- 
tor, if  you  don't  mind.  I  saw  in  the  paper  a  Polder 
was  married."  Howat  Penny  lit  a  cigarette,  ad- 
mirably stolid.  "  A  name  I  never  repeat,"  Char- 
lotte Jannan  said  when  her  daughter  had  left.  He 
heard  again  the  echo  of  James  Polder's  intense 
voice,  "  I  will."  Something  of  his  dislike  for  him, 
he  discovered,  had  evaporated.  Howat  thought  of 
Mariana,  in  her  room  —  alone  with  what  feelings? 
He  realized  that  Charlotte  would  never  have  forgiven 
her  for  any  excursion  in  that  direction.  He  himself 
had  been,  was,  entirely  opposed  to  such  a  connec- 
tion. However,  he  could  now  dismiss  it  into  the 
past  that  held  a  multitude  of  similarly  futile  imagin- 
ings. 

Charlotte,  he  inferred,  had  no  elasticity ;  it  was  a 
quality  the  absence  of  which  he  had  not  before  noted. 
She  was  a  little  narrow  in  her  complacency.  Her 
patent  satisfaction  in  Sophie  was  a  shade  too  —  too 
worldly.  Sam  Lewis  was,  of  course,  irreproachably 

SS7 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


situated ;  but  he  was,  at  the  same  time,  thick-witted, 
an  indolent  appendage  for  his  name.  Suddenly  he 
felt  poignantly  sorry  for  Mariana;  in  a  way  she 
seemed  to  have  been  trapped  by  life.  James  Polder 
resembled  her  in  that  he  had  been  caught  in  an  ugly 
net  of  circumstance.  A  great  deal  had  been  upset 
since  his  day,  when  the  boxes  and  pit  had  been  so 
conveniently  separated;  old  boundaries  no  longer 
defined,  limited,  their  content;  social  demarcations 
were  being  obliterated  by  a  growing  disaffection.  It 
was  very  unfortunate,  for,  as  he  was  seeing,  unhap- 
piness  ensued.  It  was  bound  to.  An  irritability 
seized  him  at  being  dragged  into  such  useless  con- 
jecturing; into,  at  his  age,  confusing  complications; 
and  he  greeted  with  relief  the  long,  low  front  of  his 
dwelling  at  Shadrach,  its  old  grey  stone  a  seeming 
outcropping  of  the  old  green  turf,  the  aged,  sur- 
rounding trees. 


SS8 


XXIX 

MARIANA,  however,  followed  him  almost  im- 
mediately. She  stood  before  him  in  an  in- 
formal, belted  black  wool  sweater,  a  ridicu- 
lously inadequate  skirt,  and  the  solid  shoes  he 
detested  on  women.  But  he  soon  forgot  her  garb. 

"  Howat,"  she  told  him,  "  I  have  made  a  cow- 
ardly and  terrible  mistake.  I  was  meant  to  marry 
Jimmy,  and  I  didn't.  Perhaps  I  have  ruined  his 
life.  Mine  will  be  nothing  without  him."  They 
were  in  the  middle  room,  and  a  fire  of  hickory  was 
burning  in  the  panelled  hearth.  She  dropped  on  a 
chair,  and  sat  gazing  into  the  singing  flames.  Here 
it's  all  to  do  over,  he  thought,  with  a  feeling  of  weari- 
ness. "  He  may  get  along  very  well  with  his  Har- 
riet," he  remarked,  resentful  of  his  dissipated  con- 
tentment. 

"  You  know  he  won't,"  she  replied  sharply.  "  He 
loves  me ;  and  I  love  him,  Howat.  I  never  knew 
how  much,  or  how  little  anything  else  mattered,  until 
I  was  in  my  room,  after  his  wedding.  It  wasn't  a 
wedding,  really,"  she  declared.  "  All  that  doesn't 
make  one.  He'll  find  it  out,  too.  Jimmy  will  be 
desperate,  and  I'm  afraid  he  will  drink  harder.  He 
told  me  they  were  getting  frightfully  strict  about 

339 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


that  at  the  Works.  And  there's  that  reorganiza- 
tion; it  will  embitter  him  if  he  isn't  made  superin- 
tendent. He  has  worked  splendidly  for  it.  That 
woman  he  —  he  went  off  with  is  a  squash,"  she  said 
vindictively.  "  She  will  be  in  bed  when  he  goes  away 
in  the  morning,  and  in  crepe  de  Chine  negligee  when 
he  gets  back.  Perhaps  it  won't  last,"  she  added 
thoughtfully. 

The  sense  of  future  security  generated  in  Howat 
Penny  by  the  marriage  abruptly  departed.  He  fum- 
bled with  his  glass,  directed  it  at  Mariana.  "  What 
do  you  mean  by  that?  "  he  demanded.  "  I  would  go 
to  him  like  a  shot,  if  he  needed  me,"  she  coolly  re- 
turned. The  dreadful  part  of  it  was  that  he  was 
sure  she  would.  "  Nonsense,"  he  asserted,  hiding  his 
concern ;  "  there  will  be  no  fence  climbing."  All 
this  came  from  the  letting  down  of  conversational 
bars,  the  confounded  books  he  found  about  on  tables. 
Words,  like  everything  else,  had  lost  their  meanings. 
In  his  day  a  bad  woman  was  bad,  a  good,  likewise, 
good;  but  the  Lord  couldn't  tell  them  apart  now. 
It  was  the  dancing,  too.  Might  as  well  be  married 
to  a  man,  he  thought. 

Mariana  was  haggard,  the  paint  on  her  face 
crudely  —  paint.  He  saw  that  there  were  tears  in 
her  eyes,  and  he  turned  away  confused,  rose.  The 
slot  in  his  cigarette  box  refused  to  open,  and  he 
shook  it  violently,  then  put  it  back  with  a  clatter. 
"Tell  Rudolph  you're  here,"  he  said  disjointedly ; 
and,  miserable,  left  the  room.  Dressing  he  stood 
340 


THE  METAL 


at  a  window ;  the  west  held  a  narrow  strip  of  crim- 
son light  under  a  windy  mass  of  cloud.  The  ruin  of 
Shadrach  Furnace  was  sombre.  Within,  the  room 
was  almost  bare.  There  was  a  large,  high-posted 
bed  without  drapings,  a  vermilion  lacquered  table, 
dark  with  age,  supporting  a  glass  lamp  at  its  side; 
a  set  of  drawers  with  old  brass  handles ;  a  pair  of 
stiff  Adam  chairs  with  wheel  backs;  and  a  modern 
mahogany  dressing  case,  variously  and  conveniently 
divided,  a  clear  mirror  in  the  door. 

The  day  failed  rapidly,  and  he  lit  a  pair  of  small 
lamps  on  the  set  of  drawers.  The  sun  sank  in  no 
time  at  all.  Mariana,  crying.  The  girl  ought  to 
go  to  her  mother,  and  not  come  out  to  him,  an  old 
man,  with  her  intimate  troubles.  "  A  name  I  never 
repeat,"  Charlotte  had  said.  That  was  just  like 
her.  Small  sympathy  there,  and  no  more  under- 
standing. He  knotted  his  tie  hurriedly,  askew;  and 
gathered  the  ends  once  more.  It  tired  him  a  little 
to  dress  in  the  evening;  often  he  longed  to  stay  re- 
laxed, pondering,  until  Rudolph  called  him  to  din- 
ner. But  every  day  something  automatic,  tyran- 
nical, dragged  him  up  to  his  room,  encased  him  in 
rigid  linen,  formal  black.  Mariana,  against  the 
fireplace,  ate  listlessly;  and,  later,  he  beat  her  with 
shameful  ease  at  sniff. 

"  You  can't  do  that,"  he  pointed  out  with  asper- 
ity, when  she  thoughtlessly  joined  unequal  numbers. 
"  Why  not  ? "  she  asked.  She  must  be  addled. 
"  It's  against  the  rule."  Mariana  said,  "  I'm  tired 

341 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


of  rules."  She  always  had  put  away  the  dominoes, 
but  to-night  she  ignored  them,  and  he  returned  the 
pieces  to  their  morocco  case.  She  relapsed  into  si- 
lence and  a  chair;  and  he  sat  with  gaze  fixed  on  the 
hickory  in  the  fireplace,  burning  to  impalpable,  white 
ash. 

What  a  procession  of  logs  had  been  there  reduced 
to  dust,  warming  generations  of  men  now  cold.  The 
thought  of  all  those  lapsed  winters  and  lives  soothed 
him ;  the  clamour  of  living  seemed  to  retreat,  to  leave 
him  in  a  grey  tranquillity.  His  head  sank  forward, 
and  his  narrow,  dark  hands  rested  in  absolute  immo- 
bility on  the  arms  of  his  chair.  He  roused  suddenly 
to  discover  that  Mariana  had  gone  up,  and  that 
there  were  only  some  fitful,  rosy  embers  of  fire  left. 
In  November  it  had  been  his  custom  to  go  into  town 
for  the  winter ;  and  it  was  time  for  him  to  make  such 
arrangement;  but,  all  at  once,  he  was  overwhelm- 
ingly reluctant  to  face  the  change,  the  stir,  of  mov- 
ing. The  city  seemed  intolerably  noisy,  oppressive; 
the  thought  of  the  hurrying,  indifferent  crowds  dis- 
concerted him.  At  Shadrach  it  was  quiet,  familiar, 
spacious.  He  had  had  enough  of  excursions, 
strange  faces,  problems.  .  .  .  He  would  speak  to 
Rudolph.  Stay. 


342 


XXX 

THE  countryside,  it  appeared  to  Howat 
Penny,  flamed  with  autumn  and  faded  in  a 
day.  Throughout  the  night  he  heard  the 
crisp  sliding  of  dead  leaves  over  the  roof,  the  lash 
of  the  wind  swung  impotently  about  the  rectangular, 
stone  block  of  his  dwelling.  At  the  closing  of  shut- 
ters the  December  gales  only  penetrated  to  him  in 
a  thin,  distant  complaint.  The  burning  hickory 
curtained  the  middle  room  with  a  ruddy  warmth. 
It  was  a  period  of  extreme  peace;  he  slept  for  long 
hours  in  a  deep  chair,  or  sat  lost  in  a  simulation  of 
sleep,  living  again  in  the  past.  The  present  was 
increasingly  immaterial,  unimportant;  old  contro- 
versies occupied  him,  long  since  stilled;  and  among 
the  memories  of  opera,  of  Eames  as  a  splendid  girl, 
forgotten  roles,  were  other,  vaguer  associations,  im- 
pressions which  seemed  to  linger  from  actual  hap- 
penings, but  persistently  evaded  definition.  At 
times,  his  eyes  closed,  the  glow  of  his  fireplace  burned 
hotter,  more  lurid,  and  was  filled  with  faintly  clam- 
orous sounds ;  at  times  there  was,  woven  through  his 
half-wakeful  dreaming,  a  monotonous  beat  .  .  . 
such  as  the  fall  of  a  hammer.  He  saw,  too,  strange 
and  yet  familiar  faces  —  a  girl  in  silk  like  an  ex- 

343 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


travagant  tea  rose;  a  countenance  seamed  and  glis- 
tening with  pain  floated  in  shadow;  and  then  an- 
other mocked  and  mocked  him.  Once  he  heard  the 
drumming  of  rain,  close  above;  and  the  illusion  was 
so  strong  that  he  made  his  way  to  the  door ;  a  black 
void  was  glistening  with  cold  and  relentless  stars. 
.  .  .  Now  he  was  standing  by  a  dark,  hurrying  river, 
nothing  else  was  visible;  and  yet  he  was  thrilled  by 
a  sense  of  utter  rapture. 

He  developed  a  feeling  of  the  impermanence  of  life, 
his  hold  upon  it  no  stronger  than  the  tenuous  cord 
of  a  balloon  straining  impatiently  in  great,  unknown 
currents.  The  future  lost  all  significance,  reality ; 
there  were  only  memories ;  the  vista  behind  was  long 
and  clear,  but  the  door  to  to-morrow  was  shut. 
Looking  into  his  mirror  the  reflection  was  far  re- 
moved; it  was  hollow-cheeked  and  silvered,  unfamil- 
iar. He  half  expected  to  see  a  different  face,  not 
less  lean,  but  more  arrogant,  with  a  sharply  defined 
chin.  The  actual,  blurred  visage  accorded  ill  with 
his  trains  of  thought ;  it  was  out  of  place  among  the 
troops  of  gala  youth. 

A  wired  letter,  a  customary  present  of  cigarettes, 
came  from  Mariana  on  Christmas,  gifts  from  Char- 
lotte and  Bundy  Provost.  There  was  champagne 
at  his  place  for  dinner;  and  he  sealed  crisp  money 
in  envelopes  inscribed  Rudolph,  Honduras,  and  the 
names  of  the  cook  and  maid.  He  drank  the  wine 
solemnly;  the  visions  were  gone;  and  he  saw  himself 
as  an  old  man  lingering  out  of  his  time,  alone. 
344 


THE  METAL 


There  was,  however,  little  sentimental  melancholy  in 
the  realization;  he  held  an  upright  pride,  the  inex- 
tinguishable accent  of  a  black  Penny.  His  disdain 
for  the  commonality  of  life  still  dictated  his  preju- 
dices. He  informed  Rudolph  again  that  the  pres- 
ent opera  was  without  song;  and  again  Rudolph 
gravely  echoed  the  faith  that  melody  was  the  heart 
of  music. 

The  winds  grew  even  higher,  shriller;  the  falls  of 
snow  vanished  before  drenching,  brown  rains,  and 
the  afternoons  perceptibly  lengthened.  There  was 
arbutus  on  the  slopes,  robins,  before  he  recognized 
that  April  was  accomplished.  A  farmer  ploughed 
the  vegetable  garden  behind  the  house;  and  Hon- 
duras dragged  the  cedar  bean  poles  from  their  rest- 
ing place.  Mariana  soon  appeared. 

"  I  wouldn't  miss  the  spring  at  Shadrach  for  a 
hundred  years  of  hibiscus,"  she  told  him.  He  gath- 
ered that  she  had  been  south.  She  brought  him 
great  pleasure,  beat  him  with  annoying  frequency 
at  sniff,  and  was  more  companionable  than  ever  be- 
fore. She  had,  he  thought,  forgot  James  Polder ; 
and  he  was  careful  to  avoid  the  least  reference  to  the 
latter.  Mariana  was  a  sensible  girl;  birth  once 
more  had  told. 

She  was  better  looking  than  he  had  remembered 
her,  more  tranquil ;  a  distinguished  woman.  It  was 
incredible  that  a  man  approximately  her  equal  had 
not  appeared.  Then,  without  warning  —  they  were 
seated  on  the  porch  gazing  through  the  tender  green 

345 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

foliage  of  the  willow  at  the  vivid  young  wheat  beyond 
—  she  said : 

"  Howat,  I  am  certain  that  things  are  going  badly 
with  Jimmy.  He  wrote  to  me  willingly  in  the  win- 
ter, but  twice  since  then  he  hasn't  answered  a  letter." 

He  suppressed  a  sharp,  recurrent  concern.  "  It's 
that  Harriet,"  he  told  her,  capitally  diffident. 
"  You  are  stupid  to  keep  it  up.  What  chance  would 
he  have  had  answering  her  letters  married  to  you?  " 

"  This  is  different,"  she  replied  confidently.  He 
saw  that  he  had  been  wrong  —  nothing  had 
changed,  lessened.  Howat  swore  silently.  That 
damnable  episode  might  well  spoil  her  entire  exist- 
ence. But  he  wisely  avoided  argument,  comment. 
A  warm  current  of  air,  fragrant  with  apple  blossoms, 
caught  the  ribbon-like  smoke  of  his  cigarette  and 
dissipated  it.  She  smiled  with  half-closed  eyes  at 
the  new  flowering  of  earth.  Her  expression  grew 
serious,  firm.  "  I  think  we'd  better  go  out  to  Har- 
risburg,"  she  remarked,  elaborately  casual,  "  and  see 
Jimmy  for  ourselves." 

He  protested  vehemently,  but  —  from  experience 
in  that  quarter  —  with  a  conviction  of  futility. 
"  She'll  laugh  at  you,"  he  told  Mariana.  "  Haven't 
you  any  proper  pride? "  She  shook  her  head. 
"  Not  a  scrap.  It's  just  that  quality  in  Jim  that 
annoyed  me,  and  spoiled  everything.  I'd  cook  for 
them  if  it  would  do  any  good."  Irritation  mastered 
him.  "  This  is  shameful,  Mariana,"  he  declared. 
"  Don't  your  position,  your  antecedents,  stand  for 
346 


anything?  If  I  had  Jasper  Penny  here  I  would  tell 
him  what  I  thought  of  his  confounded  behaviour !  " 
He  rose,  and  walked  the  length  of  the  porch  and 
back. 

"  The  first  part  of  next  week?  "  she  queried.  "  I 
won't  go  a  mile,"  he  stated,  in  sheer  bravado. 
"  Then,"  said  Mariana,  "  I  must  do  it  alone."  He 
muttered  a  period  in  which  the  term  hussy  was  solely 
audible.  "  Which  of  us  ? "  she  asked,  calmly. 
"  Actually,"  he  exploded,  "  I  feel  sorry  for  that 
Harriet.  I  sympathize  with  her.  She  got  the  pre- 
cious James  fair  enough,  and  the  decent  thing  for 
you  is  to  keep  away." 

"  But  I'm  not  decent  either,"  Mariana  continued. 
"  If  you  could  know  what  is  in  my  head  you'd  recog- 
nize that.  I  seem  to  have  no  good  qualities.  I 
don't  want  them,  Howat,"  her  voice  intensified ;  "  I 
want  Jim." 

He  was  completely  silenced  by  this  desire  persist- 
ing in  spite  of  every  established  obstacle.  It  sum- 
moned an  increasing  response  at  the  core  of  his 
being.  Such  an  attitude  was,  more  remotely,  his 
own ;  but  in  him  it  had  been  purely  negative,  an  inhi- 
bition rather  than  a  challenge;  he  had  kept  out  of 
life  instead  of  actively  defying  it.  In  him  the  fam- 
ily inheritance  of  blackness  was  subsiding  with  the 
rest. 

Howat  maintained  until  the  moment  of  their  de- 
parture his  protest,  his  perverse  community  with 
Harriet  Polder.  "  You'll  find  a  happy  house,"  he 

347 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

predicted,  "  and  come  home  like  a  fool.  I  hope  you 
do.  It  ought  to  help  make  you  more  reasonable. 
She  will  tell  James  to  give  you  a  comfortable  chair, 
and  apologize  for  not  asking  you  to  dinner."  She 
gazed  through  the  car  window  without  replying. 
He  realized  that  he  had  never  seen  Mariana  more 
becomingly  dressed  —  she  wore  a  rough,  silver- 
coloured  suit  with  a  short  jacket,  a  pale  green  straw 
hat,  like  the  new  willow  leaves,  across  the  blueness  of 
her  eyes,  and  an  innumerably  ruffled  and  flounced 
waist  of  thinnest  batiste.  A  square,  deep  emerald 
hung  from  a  platinum  chain  about  her  neck ;  and  a 
hand,  stripped  of  its  thick  white  glove,  showed  an 
oppressive,  prismatic  glitter  of  diamonds. 

The  morning  was  filled  with  dense,  low,  grey  cloud, 
under  which  the  river  on  their  left  flowed  without  a 
glimmer  of  brightness.  Howat  was  aware  of  an  in- 
creasing sulphurous  pall,  and  suddenly  the  train  was 
passing  an  apparently  endless  confusion  of  great, 
corrugated  iron  sheds,  rows  of  towering,  smoking 
stacks,  enormous,  black  cylinders,  systems  of  tracks 
over  which  shrilling  locomotives  hauled  carloads  of 
broken  slag,  or  bumped  strings  of  trucks,  with  reck- 
less energy,  in  and  out  of  the  grimy  interiors.  The 
overpowering  magnitude  of  the  steel  works  — 
Howat  Penny  needed  no  assurance  of  its  purpose  — 
exceeded  every  preconception. 

Shut  between  the  river  and  an  abrupt  hillside, 
where  scattered  dwellings  and  sparse  trees  and 
ground  were  coated  with  a  soft  monotony  of  rose- 
348 


THE  METAL 


brown  dust,  the  mills  were  jumbled  in  mile-long  per- 
spectives. Above  the  immediate  noise  of  the  train 
he  could  hear  the  sullen,  blended  roar  of  an  infinity 
of  strident  sounds  —  the  screaming  of  whistles,  a 
choked,  drumming  thunder,  rushing  blasts  of  air,  the 
shattering  impact  of  steel  rails,  raw  steam,  and  a 
multitudinous  clangour  of  metal  and  jolting  wheels 
and  connective  power.  He  passed  rusting  mountains 
straddled  by  giant  gantries,  the  towering  lifts  of 
mammoth  cranes,  banks  of  chalk-white  stone,  dizzy 
super-structures  mounted  by  spasmodic  skips. 

As  the  train  proceeded  with  scarcely  abated  speed, 
and  the  vast  operation  continued  without  a  break, 
mill  on  mill,  file  after  file  of  stacks,  Howat  Penny's 
senses  were  crushed  by  the  spectacle  of  such  incredi- 
ble labour.  Suddenly  a  column  of  fire,  deep  orange 
at  the  core,  raying  through  paler  yellow  to  a  palpi- 
tating white  brilliancy,  shot  up  through  the  torn  va- 
pours, the  massed  and  shuddering  smoke,  to  the 
clouds,  and  was  sharply  withdrawn  in  a  coppery 
smother  pierced  by  a  rapid,  lance-like  thrust  of  steel- 
blue  flame. 

These  stupendous  miles  were,  to-day,  the  furnaces 
and  forges  that  Gilbert  Penny  had  built  and  oper- 
ated in  the  pastoral  clearings  of  the  Province. 
Howat  recalled  the  single,  diminutive  shed  of  Myrtle 
Forge,  the  slender  stream,  the  wheel,  its  sole  power; 
the  solitary  stack  of  Shadrach  Furnace,  recreated  in 
his  vision,  opposed  its  insignificant  bulk  against  the 
living  greenery  of  overwhelming  forests.  Now  the 

349 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

forests  were  gone,  obliterated  by  the  mills  that  had 
grown  out  of  Gilbert's  energy  and  determination,  his 
pioneer  courage.  His  spirit,  the  indomitable  will  of 
a  handful  of  men,  a  small,  isolated  colony,  had  swept 
forward  in  a  resistless  tide,  multiplying  invention, 
improvement,  with  success  until,  as  Howat  had  seen, 
their  flares  reached  to  the  clouds,  their  industry 
spread  in  iron  cities.  James  Polder  had  a  part  in 
this.  Here,  under  the  ringing  walls  of  the  steel  mills, 
he  got  a  fresh  comprehension  of  the  bitter,  restless 
virility  of  the. younger  man. 

Out  of  the  station  Mariana  furnished  the  driver  of 
a  public  motor  with  James  Polder's  address,  and 
they  twisted  through  congested  streets,  past  the 
domed  Capitol,  rising  from  intense  green  sod,  flanked 
by  involved  groups  of  sculpture,  to  a  quieter  reach 
lying  parallel  with  the  river.  They  discovered  Pol- 
der's house  occupying  a  corner,  one  of  a  short  row 
of  yellow  brick  with  a  scrap  of  lawn  bound  by  a  low 
wall,  and  a  porch  continuous  across  the  face  of  the 
dwellings. 

The  door  opened  after  a  long  interval,  and  a 
woman  with  bare  arms  and  a  spotted  kitchen  apron 
admitted  them  to  an  interior  faintly  permeated  with 
the  odours  of  cooking.  There  were  redly  varnished 
chairs,  upright  piano,  a  heavily  framed  saccharine 
print  of  loves  and  a  flushed,  sleeping  divinity;  a 
table  scarred  by  burning  cigarettes,  holding  cerise 
knitting  on  needles  one  of  which  was  broken,  glasses 
with  dregs  of  beer,  a  photograph  in  a  tarnished  sil- 
350 


THE  METAL 


ver  frame  of  Harriet  de  Barry  Polder  with  undraped 
shoulders  and  an  exploited  dimple,  and  a  copy  of 
a  technical  journal.  A  fretful,  shrill  barking  rose 
at  their  heels ;  and  Howat  Penny  swung  his  stick  at  a 
diminutive,  silky  white  dog  with  matted,  pinkish  eyes, 
obsessed  by  an  impotent  fury. 

An  indolent  voice  drifted  from  above.  "  Che- 
rette ! "  And  a  low,  masculine  protest  was  audible. 
Mariana  Jannan's  face  was  inscrutable.  The 
woman  continued  audibly,  "How  can  I  —  like  this? 
You  will  have  to  see  what  it  is."  A  moment  later 
James  Polder,  drawing  on  a  coat,  descended  the 
stairs.  He  saw  Mariana  at  once,  and  stood  arrested 
with  one  foot  on  the  floor,  and  a  hand  clutching  the 
rail.  A  sudden  pallor  invaded  his  countenance  and 
Howat  turned  away,  inspecting  the  print.  But  he 
could  not  close  his  hearing  to  the  suppressed  eager- 
ness, the  stammering  joy,  of  Polder's  surprise. 

'*  And  you,  too,"  he  said  to  the  elder,  with  a 
crushing  grip.  Howat  immediately  recognized  that 
the  other  was  marked  by  an  obvious  ill  health;  his 
eyes  were  hung  with  shadows,  like  smudges  of  the  iron 
dust,  and  his  palm  was  hot  and  wet.  "  Harriet,"  he 
called  up  the  stair,  "  here's  Miss  Jannan  and  Mr. 
Howat  Penny  to  see  us."  A  complete  silence  above, 
then  a  sharp  rustle,  replied  to  his  announcement. 
"  Harriet  will  be  right  down,"  he  continued ;  "  fixing 
herself  up  a  little  first.  Have  trouble  finding  us? 
Second  Street  is  high  for  a  foreman,  but  we're  mov- 
ing out  against  the  future." 

351 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

The  dog  maintained  a  stridulous  barking;  and 
James  Polder  carried  her,  in  an  ecsatsy  of  snarling 
ill-temper,  out.  "  Cherette  doesn't  appreciate  call- 
ers," he  stated,  with  an  expression  that  contra- 
dicted the  mildness  of  his  words.  His  gaze,  Howat 
thought,  rested  on  Mariana  with  the  intensity  of  a 
fanatic  Arab  at  the  apparition  of  Mohammed.  And 
Mariana  smiled  back  with  a  penetrating  comprehen- 
sion and  sympathy.  The  proceeding  made  Howat 
Penny  extremely  uncomfortable ;  it  was  —  was  bare- 
faced. He  hoped  desperately  that  something  more 
appropriately  casual  would  meet  the  appearance  of 
Harriet.  Mariana  said: 

"  You  haven't  been  well."  Polder  replied  that  it 
was  nothing.  "  I  get  a  night  shift,"  he  explained, 
"  and  I've  never  learned  to  sleep  through  the  day. 
We're  working  under  unusual  pressure,  too;  inhu- 
man contracts,  success."  He  smiled  without  gaiety. 
"  You  didn't  answer  my  letter,"  the  outrageous  Ma- 
riana proceeded.  Howat  withered  mentally  at  her 
cool  daring,  and  Polder,  now  flushed,  avoided  her 
gaze.  The  necessity  of  answer  was  bridged  by  the 
descent  of  his  wife.  Her  face,  as  always,  brightly 
coloured,  was  framed  in  an  instinctively  effective 
twist  of  gold  hair;  and  she  wore  an  elaborately 
braided,  white  cloth  skirt,  a  magenta  georgette 
crepe  waist,  with  a  deep,  boyish  collar,  drawn  tightly 
across  her  full,  soft  body. 

"  Isn't  it  fierce,"  she  demanded  cheerfully,  "  with 
Jim  out  as  many  nights  as  he's  in  bed  ?  "  She  pro- 
362 


THE  METAL 


duced  a  pasteboard  package  of  popular  cigarettes 
and  offered  them  to  Howat  Penny  and  Mariana. 
"  Sorry,  I  can't  smoke  any  others,"  she  explained, 
striking  a  match.  "  I  heard  you  saying  he  doesn't 
look  right,"  she  addressed  Mariana.  "  And  it's  cer- 
tainly the  truth.  Who  would  with  what  he  does?  I 
tell  him  our  life  is  all  broke  up.  One  night  stands 
used  to  get  me,  but  they're  a  metropolitan  run  com- 
pared with  this.  Honest  to  God,"  she  told  them 
good  naturedly,  "  I've  threatened  to  leave  him  al- 
ready. I'd  rather  see  him  a  property  man  with  me 
on  the  road." 

"  It  must  be  a  little  wearing,"  Mariana  agreed ; 
"  but  then,  you  know,  your  husband  is  a  steel  man. 
This  is  his  life."  Howat  Penny  could  see  the  cordial- 
ity ebbing  from  the  other  woman's  countenance. 
Positively,  Mariana  ought  to  be  ..."  I  can  get 
that,"  Harriet  Polder  informed  her.  "  We  are  only 
hanging  on  till  Jim's  made  superintendent.  Then 
we'll  be  regular  inhabitants.  Any  other  small 
thing?  "  At  the  sharpening  note  of  her  voice  James 
Polder  hurriedly  proceeded  with  general  facts. 
"  You'll  want  to  see  the  Works,  as  much  as  I  can 
show  you.  Hardly  any  of  the  public  are  let  through 
now.  It  will  interest  you,  sir,  to  see  what  the  Penny 
iron  trade  has  become.  I  can  take  you  down  this 
afternoon.  Harriet  will  find  us  some  lunch."  The 
latter  moved  in  a  sensuous  deliberation,  followed  by 
a  thin,  acidulous  trail  of  smoke,  into  inner  rooms. 
"When  do  you  have  to  go  back?"  Polder  asked. 

353 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


"  This  evening,"  Howat  told  him ;  **  we  just  stopped 
to—" 

"  To  see  how  you  were,"  Mariana  interrupted  him 
baldly,  studying  the  younger  man  with  a  concerned 
frown.  "  You  ought  to  rest,  you  know,"  she  decided. 
"  That's  possible,"  he  returned.  "  I  thought  of  ask- 
ing for  a  couple  of  weeks.  I  hurried  back  right  after 
I  was  married.  They  are  coming  to  me."  She  enig- 
matically regarded  Howat  Penny;  he  saw  that  she 
was  about  to  speak  impetuously;  but,  to  his  great 
relief,  she  stopped.  "  It's  been  pretty  hard  on  Har- 
riet," he  said  instead.  "  After  the  stage  and  audi- 
ences, and  all  that."  Mariana's  expression  was  cold. 
Confound  her,  why  didn't  she  help  the  fellow ! 
Howat  Penny  fidgeted  with  his  stick.  What  a  stew 
Polder  had  gotten  himself  into.  This  was  worse, 
even,  than  the  marriage  threatened. 

Lunch  was  a  spasmodic  affair  of  cutlets  hardening 
in  grease,  blue  boiled  potatoes,  sandy  spinach  and 
blanched  ragged  bread.  There  was  more  beer;  but 
Jim,  his  wife  proceeded,  liked  whiskey  and  water  with 
his  meals.  The  former  glanced  uneasily  at  Mariana, 
tranquilly  cutting  up  her  cutlet.  The  diamonds  on 
her  narrow,  delicate  hand  flashed,  the  emerald  at  her 
throat  was  superb.  Their  surroundings  were  doubly 
depressing  contrasted  with  her  fastidious  dress  and 
person.  Before  her  composure  Harriet  Polder 
seemed  over-florid;  a  woman  of  trite  phrases,  com- 
monplace, theatrical  attitudes  and  emotions.  As 
lunch  progressed  the  latter  relapsed  into  a  sulky  si- 
354 


THE  METAL 


lence;  she  glanced  surreptitiously  at  Mariana's  ap- 
parel; and  consumed  cigarettes  with  a  straining  as- 
sumption of  easy  indifference. 

Howat  Penny  was  acutely  uncomfortable,  and 
Polder  scowled  at  his  plate.  The  whiskey  and  water 
shook  in  a  tense,  unsteady  hand.  He  rose  from 
the  table  with  a  violent  relief.  He  proposed  almost 
immediately  that  they  go  over  to  the  Works,  and 
Mariana  turned  pleasantly  to  his  wife.  "  Shall  you 
get  a  hat?  "  The  other  hesitated,  then  asserted  de- 
fiantly, "  I've  always  said  I  wouldn't  go  into  that 
rackety  place,  and  I  won't  now.  It's  bad  enough  to 
have  it  tramped  back  over  things."  Mariana  ex- 
tended a  hand.  "  Then  good-bye,"  she  proceeded. 
"  I  think  we  won't  get  back  here.  We're  tremen- 
dously obliged  for  the  lunch.  It  has  been  interesting 
to  see  where  Jim  lives."  Harriet  Polder's  cheeks 
were  darker  than  pink  as  they  moved  out  to  the  side- 
walk. "  Jim,"  she  called,  with  an  unmistakably  pro- 
prietary sounding  of  the  familiar  diminution ;  "  don't 
forget  my  cigarettes,  and  a  half  pound  of  liver  for 
Cherette." 


355 


XXXI 

JAMES  POLDER  conducted  them  to  the  river, 
sweeping  away  in  a  wide  curve  beneath  solidj 
grey  stone  bridges  into  a  region  of  towering 
hills.  They  turned  to  the  left,  and,  walking  on  a 
high  embankment,  passed  blocks  of  individually  pre- 
tentious dwellings,  edifices  of  carved  granite,  alter- 
nating with  the  simpler  brick  faces  of  an  older 
period.  A  narrow,  whitely  dusty  sweep  of  green 
park  was  followed  by  a  speedy  degeneration  of  the 
riverside ;  the  houses  shrunk  to  rows  of  wood  marked 
by  the  grime  of  steel  mills.  Soon  after  they  reached 
a  forbidding  fence ;  and,  passing  a  watchman's  inspec- 
tion, entered  into  a  clamorous  region  of  sheds,  tracks 
and  confusing  levels  such  as  Howat  Penny  had  viewed 
from  the  train. 

"  I'm  in  the  open  hearth,"  Polder  told  them,  lead- 
ing the  way  over  a  narrow  boardwalk,  still  skirting 
the  broad  expanse  of  the  river.  "  It's  a  process, 
really,  but  the  whole  mill  is  called  after  it.  We  make 
steel  from  iron  scrap;  that's  our  specialty  in  the 
Medial  Works;  and  our  stuff's  as  good  as  the  best. 
The  bigger  concerns  mostly  use  pig.  Turn  in  here." 
They  were  facing  the  towering  end  of  an  iron  shed, 
and  mounted  a  steep  ascent  to  gain  the  upper  en- 
trance. The  multiplication  of  noises  beat  in  an  in- 
356 


THE  METAL 


creasing  volume  about  Howat  Penny.  Below  him  a 
locomotive  screeched  with  a  freight  of  slag;  beyond 
was  a  heap  of  massive,  broken  moulds;  and  a  train 
of  small  trucks  held  empty  iron  boxes  beside  an 
enormous  bank  of  iron  scrap  dominated  by  a  huge 
crane  swinging  a  circular  magnet  that  dispassion- 
ately picked  up  ton  loads  and  bore  them  to  the 
waiting  cars. 

Inside  he  gazed  through  a  long  vista  under  a  roof 
lost  in  tenebrious  shadow.  On  one  side  were  ranged 
the  furnaces,  a  continuous  bank  of  brick  bound  in 
iron ;  each  furnace  with  five  doors,  closed  with  black 
slides  in  which  a  round  opening  emitted  an  intoler- 
able, dazzling  white  glare.  But  few  men,  Howat 
thought,  were  visible  in  proportion  to  the  magnitude 
of  the  work ;  deliberately  engaged,  with  leather 
shields  hanging  from  their  wrists  and  blue  spectacles 
pushed  up  on  their  grimy  brows. 

A  crane  advanced  with  the  shrill  racket  of  an  elec- 
tric gong,  its  operator  caged  in  midair,  and  hercu- 
lean grappling  chains  swinging.  A  grinding  truck, 
filling  the  width  of  floor,  moved  forward  to  where 
Howat  stood.  It  was,  Polder  told  him,  the  charging 
machine.  An  iron  beam  projected  opposite  the  fur- 
nace doors,  and  it  was  locked  into  one  of  the  charg- 
ing boxes,  filled  with  scrap  metal,  standing  on  the 
rails  against  the  furnaces.  A  man  behind  him 
dragged  forward  a  lever,  the  slide  which  covered  a 
door  rose  ponderously  on  a  blinding,  incandescent 
core,  and  the  beam  thrust  forward  into  the  blaze, 

357 


THE  THREE  SLACK  PENNYS 

turning  round  and  round  in  the  emptying  of  the  box. 
It  was  withdrawn,  the  slide  dropped,  and  the  machine 
retreated,  its  complex  movements  controlled  by  a 
single  engineer  at  crackling  switches  where  the  power 
leaped  in  points  of  light  like  violets. 

At  another  furnace,  an  opened  door,  where  the  heat 
poured  out  in  a  constricting  blast,  workmen  were 
shovelling  in  powdery  white  stone;  moving  up  with 
their  heads  averted,  and  quickly  retreating  with 
shielding  arms.  "  That's  dolomite,"  James  Polder's 
explanations  went  rapidly  forward.  "  They  are 
banking  up  the  furnace.  The  other,  in  the  bins,  is 
ferro  manganese."  He  procured  a  pair  of  specta- 
cles; and,  with  a  protected  gaze,  Howat  looked  into 
a  furnace,  an  appalling  space  of  apparently  bub- 
bling milk  over  which  played  sheets  of  ignited  gases. 
The  skin  on  his  forehead  shrivelled  like  scorching 
paper. 

"  I  particularly  wanted  you  to  see  a  heat  tapped," 
Polder  told  Mariana.  "  And  they're  making  a  test 
at  number  four."  They  followed  him  to  where  a 
small  ladle  of  metal  had  been  dipped  out  of  a  furnace. 
It  was  poured,  with  a  red-gold  shower  of  sparks,  into 
a  mould,  then  dropped  in  a  trough  of  water.  The 
miniature  ingot,  broken  under  the  wide  sweep  of  a 
sledge,  was  examined  by  a  lean,  grizzled  workman  — 
"  the  melter  " —  who  nodded.  "  We  must  get  back 
of  the  furnace,"  Polder  continued,  indicating  a  nar- 
row opening  between  brick  walls  through  the  un- 
stopped chinks  of  which  seethed  the  scorifying  blaze. 
358 


THE  METAL 


Howat  Penny  stood  at  a  railing,  looking  down  into 
an  apparent  confusion  of  slag  and  cars,  pits  and 
gigantic  ladles  and  upright  moulds  set  upon  circular 
bases.  A  crane  rumbled  forward,  grappled  a  hun- 
dred-ton ladle,  a  fabulous  iron  pot,  and  petulantly 
deposited  it  under  a  channel  extending  out  from  the 
base  of  the  furnace  where  they  had  been  stationed. 
A  workman  steadied  himself  below  their  level  and 
picked  with  a  long  iron  bar  at  a  plugged  opening. 
It  was,  James  Polder  went  on,  the  most  dangerous 
moment  of  the  process  — "  sometimes  the  furnace 
blows  out."  The  labour  of  tapping  was  prolonged 
until  Howat  was  conscious  of  an  oppressive  tension. 
Workmen  had  gathered,  waiting,  in  the  pit.  More 
appeared  along  the  railing  above.  This  was,  he  felt, 
the  supreme,  the  dramatic,  height  of  steel  making. 
The  men  suddenly  seemed  puny,  insignificant,  before 
the  stupendous,  volcanic  energy  they  had  evoked. 
The  tapping  stopped.  Polder  commenced,  "  It  will 
be  rammed  out  from  the  front  — " 

A  stunning  white  flare  filled  the  far  roof  with  a 
dazzling  illumination ;  and,  in  a  dull  explosion,  a 
terrific  billowing  of  heat,  a  cataract  of  liquid  steel 
burst  out  through  lambent  orange  and  blue  flames. 
It  poured,  searing  the  vision,  into  the  ladle,  over 
which  rosy  clouds  accumulated  in  a  bank  drifting 
through  the  great  space  of  the  shed.  Nothing, 
Howat  thought,  could  contain,  control,  the  appall- 
ing expansion,  the  furious  volume,  of  seething  white 
metal.  He  was  obliged  to  turn  away,  blinded  by 

359 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


sheets  of  complementary  green  hanging  before  his 
eyes. 

The  uproar  subsided,  the  flooding  steel  became 
bluer,  a  solid  stream  curving  into  the  black  depths  of 
the  ladle.  Vapours  of  green  and  sulphur  and  lilac 
shivered  into  the  denser  ruby  smoke  and  rising  silver 
spray.  Polder  called  a  warning  into  Mariana's  ear, 
they  drew  back  as  a  lump  of  coal  was  heaved  up  from 
the  pit,  into  the  ladle.  A  dull  vermilion  blaze  fol- 
lowed, and  Howat  Penny  partly  heard  an  explana- 
tion — "  recarburizing."  He  could  now  see  the  steel 
bubbling  up  to  the  rim  of  the  container.  Men, 
Polder  said  shortly,  had  fallen  in  ...  Utterly  un- 
thinkable. With  a  sudorific  heat  that  drove  them 
still  farther  back  the  slag  boiling  on  the  steel  flowed 
in  a  gold  cascade  over  a  great  lip  into  a  second 
receptacle  below.  That  was  soon  filled,  and  gor- 
geous streams  and  pools  widened  across  the  riven 
ground.  The  steel  itself  escaped  in  a  milky  incan- 
descence. "  A  wild  heat,"  James  Polder  told  them, 
pleased.  "  The  bottom  of  a  furnace  may  drop 
out.  I  was  almost  caught  in  the  pit  at  Cambria." 
The  crane  chains  swung  forward,  picked  up  the  ladle 
of  molten  metal,  and  shifted  it  through  the  air  to  a 
position  over  a  circular  group  of  moulds.  There,  a 
valve  opened,  the  steel  poured  into  a  central  pipe. 
"  Bottom-filled,"  Polder  concluded,  assisting  Mari- 
ana over  the  precarious  flooring ;  "  the  metal  rises 
into  the  ingot  forms." 

They  descended  again,  by  the  blackened  brick,  box- 
360 


THE  METAL 


like  office  of  the  superintendent,  to  the  level  of  the 
pit,  retraced  the  way  over  the  boardwalk.  They 
passed  a  cavernous  interior,  filled  with  a  continuous 
crashing,  where  a  great  sheet  of  flushing  steel  was 
propelled  over  a  system  of  rollers  through  a  black, 
dripping  compression.  "  I  can  take  you  to  the  Sen- 
ate," James  Polder  told  them,  once  more  outside ;  "  or 
the  Engineers'  Society.  Dinner  will  be  ready  at  the 
club." 

He  conducted  them  into  the  serious  interior  of 
a  large,  solidly  constructed  dwelling  that  had  been 
transformed  into  a  club.  The  dining  room  was  al- 
ready filling  but  they  secured  a  small  table  against 
the  wall.  Across  the  floor  ten  or  twelve  men  were 
gathered  in  a  circle.  Some,  Howat  thought,  were 
surprisingly  young  for  the  evident  authority  in  their 
manner,  pronouncements ;  others  were  grey,  weather- 
worn, men  with  immobile  faces  often  lost,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  a  gay  period,  in  a  sudden  gravity  of  thought, 
silent  calculation.  He  saw  the  smooth,  deft  hands 
of  draughtsmen,  and  scarred,  powerful  hands  that, 
like  James  Polder's,  had  laboured  through  appren- 
ticeship in  pit  and  mill  shop. 

He  recognized  that  Polder  was  more  drawn  than 
he  had  first  observed.  He  was  sapped  by  the  crush- 
ing entity  of  the  steel  works,  the  enormous  heat  and 
energy  and  strain  of  the  open  hearth.  If  the 
younger  did  not  lay  off  he  would,  unquestionably, 
break.  Nevertheless,  Howat  was  totally  unprepared 
for  the  amazing  suggestion  quietly  advanced  by 

361 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


Mariana.  "  Jimmy,"  she  said,  "  couldn't  you  come 
to  Shadrach  for  those  two  weeks?  You'd  find  the 
quiet  there  wonderful.  And  any  doctor  will  advise 
you  to  leave  your  family  for  a  proper  rest.  I'm  cer- 
tain Howat  would  be  as  nice  as  possible." 

A  sudden,  patent  longing  leaped  to  James  Polder's 
countenance.  Actually  he  stuttered  with  a  surprised 
delight.  Damn  it,  there  was  nothing  for  him,  Howat, 
to  do  but  stare  like  a  helpless  idiot.  He  ought  to  say 
something,  second  Mariana's  impudent  invitation,  at 
once.  She  ignored  him,  gazing  intently  at  the 
younger  man.  He,  too,  meeting  Mariana's  eyes,  had 
apparently  totally  forgot  the  unimportant  presence 
of  Howat  Penny.  And  he  had  been  married  to  his 
Harriet  for  a  scant  half  year!  Howat  Penny 
thought  mechanically  of  the  Polders'  depressing 
house,  the  odours  of  old  cooking  and  cheap  ciga- 
rettes, the  feverish  yapping  of  the  silky  animal,  Che- 
rette,  with  matted,  pinkish  eyes.  The  precipitant, 
prideful,  young  fool!  Why  hadn't  he  held  onto  the 
merest  memory,  the  most  distant  chance  in  the  world, 
of  Mariana,  rather  than  fling  himself,  his  injured 
self-opinion,  into  this  stew? 

"  Don't  say  it  can't  be  managed,"  she  persisted. 
"  Anything  may.  It's  absolutely  necessary ;  you  can 
get  a  prescription  —  two  weeks  of  green  valley  and 
robins  and  country  eggs.  Howat  will  take  your 
money  from  you  at  penny  sniff,  and  I'll  —  I'll  come 
out  for  dinner." 

"  Harriet  thought  of  going  back  to  the  family," 
362 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

he  replied;  "but  it  might — "  he  turned  at  last  to 
Howat  Penny.  "Would  you  have  me?"  he  asked 
directly.  What,  in  thunder,  choice  of  reply  did  he 
have?  Howat  couldn't  point  out  the  shamelessness 
of  such  an  arrangement.  Harriet,  it  seemed,  was 
not  to  be  considered;  just  as  if  she  were  a  merely  dis- 
interested connection.  He  issued  a  belated  period  to 
the  effect  that  Shadrach  was  spacious  and  Rudolph 
a  capable  attendant.  It  was,  he  saw,  sufficient. 
"  We  can  write,"  said  Mariana.  She  endeavoured 
to  caress  Howat's  hand,  but  he  indignantly  frustrated 
her. 

"  I'll  have  to  get  back  to  the  hearth,"  James  Polder 
announced  regretfully.  "  It's  been  wonderful,"  he 
told  Mariana  Jannan.  Howat  scraped  his  chair  at 
the  baldness  of  Polder's  pleasure.  "  Your  work  is 
tremendous,  Jim,"  she  replied ;  "  the  only  stirring 
thing  I  have  ever  known  in  a  particularly  silly  world. 
But  you  mustn't  let  it  run  you,  too,  into  steel  rails. 
President  Polder,"  she  smiled  brilliantly  at  him. 
"Why  not?"  queried  James,  the  sanguine,  at  once 
defiant,  haggard  and  intense. 


S6S 


XXXII 

THE  following  day  Howat  Penny  was  both 
weary  and  irritable.  Mariana  declared, 
remorsefully,  that  she  had  selfishly  dragged 
him  away  from  Shadrach ;  and  proposed  countless 
trivial  amends,  which  he  fretfully  blocked.  He  had 
no  intention  of  affording  her  such  a  ready  escape 
from  a  sense,  he  hoped,  of  error  and  responsibility. 
Before  dinner,  however,  he  found  himself  walking 
with  her  over  the  deep  green  sod  that  reached  to 
the  public  road  below.  A  mock  orange  hedge  en- 
closed his  lawn,  bounding  the  cross  roads,  the  upper 
course  leading  to  Myrtle  Forge ;  and  beyond  they 
passed,  on  the  left,  the  collapsed  stone  walls  and 
fallen  shingles  of  what,  evidently,  had  been  a  small 
blacksmith's  shed.  Farther  along  they  came  to  the 
sturdy  shell  of  an  old,  single-room  building,  erected, 
perhaps,  when  Shadrach  Furnace  was  new,  with 
weeds  climbing  through  the  rotten  floor,  and  a  frag- 
ment of  steps,  rising  to  the  mouldering  peak  of  a 
loft,  still  clinging  to  a  wall. 

Without  definite  purpose  they  turned  from  the 

public  way  into   an   overgrown  path,  banked  with 

matted  blackberry  bushes,  and  were  soon  facing  the 

remains  of  the  Furnace.     It  had  been  solidly  con- 

S64, 


THE  METAL 


structed  of  unmasoned  stone,  bound  by  iron  rods, 
and  its  bulk  was  largely  unaffected  by  time.  The 
hearth  had  fallen  in,  choked  by  luxuriant  greenery; 
but  the  blank  sides  mounted  to  meet  the  walled  path 
reaching  out  to  its  top  from  the  abrupt  hill  against 
which  it  had  been  placed.  Before  it  foundations 
could  still  be  traced;  and  above,  a  rectangle  of  win- 
dowless  stone  walls  survived,  roofless  and  desolate. 
An  abandoned  road  turned  up  the  hill,  and  they  fol- 
lowed it  to  where  they  could  gaze  into  the  upper 
ruin  and  the  Furnace  top  below.  Everywhere  na- 
ture had  marked  or  twisted  aside  cut  stone  and  wood 
with  its  living  greenery.  Farther  down  a  pathlike 
level  followed  the  side  of  the  hill,  ending  abruptly 
in  a  walled  fall,  and  a  confusion  of  broken  beams, 
iron  braces,  and  section  of  a  large,  wheel-like  cir- 
cumference. Out  beyond  were  other  crumbling  re- 
mains of  old  activity  —  a  stone  span  across  the 
dried  course  of  a  water  way,  and  a  wide  bank,  show- 
ing through  a  hardy  vegetation  the  grey-brown  in- 
equalities of  slag. 

The  stillness,  broken  only  by  the  querulous  mel- 
ody of  a  robin,  and  a  beginning,  faint  piping  of 
frogs,  was  amazingly  profound  after  the  roaring 
energy  of  the  Medial  Works.  The  decay  of  Shad- 
rach  Furnace  showed  absolute  against  the  crashing 
miles  of  industry  on  the  broad  river.  A  breath  of 
honeysuckle  lifted  to  Howat  Penny ;  the  sky  was 
primrose.  Mariana  moved  closer  to  him  and  took 
his  arm.  They  said  nothing. 

365 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


A  warm  light  was  spilling  across  the  darkening 
grass  from  the  lower  windows  of  his  dwelling,  blur- 
ring in  a  dusk  under  the  high  leafage  of  aged  ma- 
ples. The  white  roses  were  already  in  bud  on  the 
vine  climbing  the  lattices  at  his  door,  and  Mariana 
fixed  one  in  his  buttonhole.  "  Howat,"  she  said, 
"  it  isn't  as  if  you  were  doing  it  just  for  Jim,  but 
for  a  man,  any  man,  really  sick.  I'll  not  even  ask 
you  to  think  of  it  for  me.  He  can  sit  on  the  porch 
and  converse  with  your  owls,  and  poke  about  over 
the  hills." 

Howat  considered  the  advisability  of  attempting 
to  extract  a  promise  from  her  that  she  would  stay 
away  from  Shadrach  if  James  Polder  was  there. 
He  considered  it  —  very  momentarily.  The  possi- 
bility, he  asserted  to  himself,  was  without  any  allevi- 
ating circumstance.  What,  in  heaven's  name,  would 
Charlotte  think  if,  as  it  well  might,  the  knowledge 
came  to  her  that  Mariana  and  a  Polder  —  that  name 
she  never  repeated  —  a  married  Polder  without  his 
wife,  were  poking  over  the  hills  together  at  Shad- 
rach? She  would  have  him,  Howat,  examined  for 
lunacy.  Mariana  demanded  too  much.  He  told 
her  this  with  the  dessert. 

"  It's  only  the  commonest  charity,"  she  repeated. 
Her  attack  rapidly  veered.  "  Howat,"  she  asked, 
"  do  you  really  dislike  Jimmy  ?  "  Certainly,  he  as- 
serted, he  —  he  disapproved  of  him  .  .  .  altogether. 
A  headstrong  young  donkey  who  had  made  a  shock- 
ing mess  of  his  life.  He  would  have  to  make  the  best 
366 


THE  METAL 


of  a  bad  affair  for  which  no  one  was  to  blame  but 
himself.  "  It  is  terrific,"  she  agreed,  almost  cheer- 
fully ;  and  he  had  a  vague  sense  of  having,  somehow, 
delivered  himself  into  her  hands.  "  Perhaps  some- 
thing can  still  be  done,"  she  said,  frowning,  increas- 
ing the  dangers  of  his  position.  He  managed,  by  a 
stubborn  silence,  to  check  further  conversation  in 
that  direction;  hoping,  vainly,  that  James  Polder 
couldn't  come,  that  Harriet,  sensibly,  would  insist 
on  his  accompanying  her,  or  that  Byron  would  sol- 
emnly intervene. 

Mariana,  later  displaying  a  letter,  dispelled  his 
wishes.  "  It's  been  arranged  quite  easily,"  she  told 
him.  "  Harriet  will  go  home.  I'd  like  to  be  here 
when  he  arrives,  but  I  can't.  You'll  be  a  dear, 
Howat,  won't  you?"  she  begged.  "I'm  certain 
James  will  give  you  no  trouble.  And  do  send  him 
to  bed  early."  At  this  he  grew  satirical,  and  she 
laughed  in  an  unaccustomed,  nervous  manner  that 
upset  him  surprisingly.  Honduras  drove  her  to  the 
station  the  next  morning;  and,  three  days  later,  de- 
posited James  Polder  on  the  worn  stone  threshold 
under  the  climbing  rose. 

After  dinner  the  younger  man  faced  him  squarely 
across  the  apricot  glow  of  the  lamp  in  the  middle 
room.  "  This  is  the  third  time  I've  come  here  with- 
out an  invitation  from  you,"  he  said  directly.  "  It 
was  Mariana  this  last.  I  shut  my  mouth  on  what 
I'd  once  have  crammed  down  your  throat,  and  came 
like  any  puppy.  It  wasn't  on  account  of  my  health, 

867 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


there  are  miles  of  quiet  country ;  it  wasn't  — "  he 
hesitated,  then  went  on  — "  altogether  because  of 
Mariana.  I  wanted  to  watch  you  closer ;  I  want  to 
find  out  what  you  are  like  inside,  so  I  might  under- 
stand some  —  some  other  things  better.  I  can  get 
out  if  it's  a  rank  failure." 

Howat  issued  a  polite,  general  dissent.  "  Now, 
right  there,"  Polder  stated ;  "  you  don't  want  me ; 
you'd  rather  I  was  a  thousand  miles  away,  dead. 
Well  —  why  don't  you  say  so  ?  "  He  had  not  the 
least  conception  of  a  decent  reticence  of  address, 
Howat  Penny  thought,  resentfully,  at  the  dis- 
comfort aroused  by  the  young  man's  sharp  at- 
tack. 

"  Certain  amenities,"  he  observed  coldly,  "  have 
been  accepted  as  desirable,  as  obligations  for  — "  he 
hesitated,  casting  about  for  a  phrase  that  would 
not  too  conspicuously  exclude  James  Polder.  "  Say 
it,"  the  latter  burst  out  rudely,  "  gentlemen.  And 
you  all  stand  about  with  one  thing  to  say  and  an- 
other in  your  head." 

"  A  degree  of  perception  is  always  admirable," 
Howat  Penny  instructed  him.  "  That's  a  nasty 
one,"  Polder  acknowledged ;  "  but  I  got  into  it  my- 
self. I  can  see  that."  His  hand,  seared  with  la- 
bour, was  pressed  on  the  table ;  and  the  elder  realized 
that,  since  he  had  witnessed  a  heat  tapped,  he  was 
not  so  censorious  of  the  broken  nails,  the  lines  of  in- 
delible black.  He  caught  James  Polder's  gaze,  and 
turned  from  its  intense  questioning.  Young  cheeks 
368 


THE  METAL 


had  no  business  to  be  so  gaunt.  Polder  picked  up 
the  figurine  in  red  clay,  studied  it  with  a  troubled 
brow,  and  replaced  it  with  a  gesture  of  hopeless- 
ness. "  Possibly,"  Howat  Penny  unexpectedly  re- 
marked, "  possibly  you  find  beauty  in  a  piece  of  open 
hearth  steel." 

"It's  useful,"  Polder  declared;  "it  has  a  tensile 
strength.  I  know  what  it  will  do.  This,"  he  indi- 
cated the  fragment  of  a  grace  razed  over  twenty- 
three  hundred  years  before,  "  is  good  for  nothing 
that  I  see."  Now,  Howat  told  himself,  it  was  merely 
a  question  of  tensile  strength.  His  old  enthusiasms, 
his  passionate  admiration  for  the  operas  of  Chris- 
topher Gluck,  the  enthusiasms  and  admirations  of 
his  kind,  were  being  pushed  aside  for  things  of  more 
obvious  practicality.  The  very  term  that  had  dis- 
tinguished his  world,  men  of  breeding,  had  been  dis- 
carded. Individuals  like  James  Polder,  blunt  of 
speech,  contemptuous,  labour  scarred,  were  para- 
mount to-day.  , 

His  thoughts,  he  realized,  were  a  part  of  the 
questioning  thrust  on  him  by  the  intrusion  of  Mari- 
ana's unfortunate  affair  into  his  old  age.  She  was 
always  dragging  him  to  a  perplexing  spectacle  for 
which  he  had  neither  energy  nor  inclination.  But 
he'd  be  damned  if  he  would  allow  the  importunities 
of  the  young  man  beyond  the  table  to  complicate 
further  his  difficulties,  and  he  retired  abruptly  be- 
hind the  Saturday  Review.  "  You'd  better  get 
along  up,"  he  said  brusquely,  after  a  little. 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


Breakfast  at  an  end,  they  settled  into  a  not  un- 
comfortable, mutual  silence.  They  smoked;  James 
Polder  unfolded  newspapers  which  he  neglected  to 
read;  Howat  went  through  the  periodicals  with  au- 
dible expressions  of  displeasure.  He  wondered  when 
Mariana  would  appear.  Mariana  made  a  fool  of 
him,  that  was  evident ;  however,  he  would  put  his 
foot  on  any  philandering  about  Shadrach.  He 
could  be  as  blunt  as  James  Polder  when  the  occa- 
sion demanded.  After  lunch  the  latter  fell  asleep 
in  his  chair  on  the  porch,  pallidly  insensible  of  the 
sparkling  flood  of  afternoon.  Howat  rose  and  went 
into  the  house.  It  was  indecent  to  see  a  counte- 
nance so  wearily  unguarded,  shorn  of  all  protective 
aggression.  Mariana  walked  in  unannounced. 

"Why  didn't  you  telephone  for  Honduras?"  he 
complained.  "  Always  some  infernal  difference  in 
what  you  do."  She  frowned.  "  Suddenly,"  she  ad- 
mitted, "  I  wasn't  in  a  hurry  to  get  here.  I  almost 
went  back.  Idiotic." 

"  Sensible,  it  seems  to  me,"  he  commented.  "  That 
Polder  is  asleep  on  the  porch."  She  nodded, 
"  Splendid.  And  you  needn't  try  to  look  fierce.  I 
can  see  through  you  and  out  the  back."  He  lit  a 
cigarette  angrily.  "  Going  to  stay  for  the  night?  " 
he  demanded.  "  Several,"  she  replied  coolly. 
"  Three  can  play  sniff." 

"  Look  here,  Mariana,"  he  proclaimed,  "  I  won't 
have  any  nonsense,  do  you  understand?  " 
370 


THE  METAL 


"  We  can  keep  a  photograph  of  Harriet  on  the 
table." 

James  Polder  entered,  and  put  a  temporary  end 
to  his  determined  speech.  When  the  former  saw 
Mariana  his  shameless  pleasure,  Howat  thought,  was 
beyond  credence.  Positively  neither  of  them  paid 
any  more  attention  to  him  than  they  did  to  Rudolph. 
His  irritation  gave  place  to  a  deeper  realization 
that  an  impossible  situation  threatened.  There  was 
nothing,  obviously,  that  he  could  do  to-day;  but  he 
would  speak  seriously  to  Mariana  to-morrow;  one 
or  both  of  them  would  have  to  leave  Shadrach.  This 
determination  took  the  present  weight  from  his  con- 
science ;  and,  pottering  about  small  concerns  of  his 
own,  he  ignored  them  comfortably. 

They  appeared  late,  dirty  and  hot,  for  dinner ;  and 
it  was  eight  o'clock  before  Mariana  came  down  in  a 
gown  like  a  white-pet  ailed  flower.  She  wore  no  rings, 
but  about  her  throat  was  a  necklace  of  old-fashioned 
seed  pearls  in  loops  and  rosettes.  "  It's  family,"  she 
told  them ;  "  it  belonged '  to  Caroline  Penny.  And 
she  married  a  Quaker,  too ;  a  David  Forsythe."  She 
stopped  suddenly,  and  Howat  Penny  recalled  the  tra- 
dition that  Caroline  Penny,  Gilbert's  daughter,  had 
appropriated  her  sister  Myrtle's  suitor.  Mariana 
favoured  him  with  a  fleet  glance,  the  quiver  of  a 
reprehensible  wink.  He  glared  back  at  her  choking 
with  suppressed  wrath.  "  I  have  a  wonderful  idea 
for  to-morrow,"  she  proceeded  tranquilly  ;  "  we'll  take 

871 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


lunch,  and  leave  Honduras,  and  go  to  Myrtle  Forge 
for  the  day." 

Her  design  was  unfolded  so  rapidly,  her  directions 
to  Rudolph  so  explicit,  that  he  had  no  opportunity 
to  oppose  his  plan  of  sending  her  away  in  the  morn- 
ing ;  and  his  impotence  committed  him  to  her  sugges- 
tion. She  could  go  in  the  evening  almost  as  well. 
After  dinner  he  rattled  the  dominoes  significantly, 
but  Mariana,  smiling  at  him  absently,  went  through 
the  room  and  out  upon  the  porch.  Polder,  with  an 
obscure  sentence,  followed  her.  A  soft  rain  sounded 
on  the  porch  roof ;  but  there  was  no  wind ;  the  night 
was  warm. 

Howat  glanced  at  his  watch,  after  a  period  of  rest- 
ful ease,  and  saw  that  it  was  past  ten.  He  moved 
resolutely  outside.  Mariana  was  banked  with 
cushions  in  the  canvas  swing,  and  Polder  sat  with  his 
body  extended,  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  head,  in 
a  gloomy  revery.  The  night,  apparently,  had 
robbed  her  countenance  of  any  bloom;  more  than 
once  in  the  past  year  Howat  had  seen  her  stamped 
with  the  premonitory  scarring  of  time.  Polder  rose 
as  he  approached,  and  Mariana  struggled  up- 
right. 

"  Good  night,"  she  said  ungraciously,  to  them  both, 
and  flickered  away  through  the  dark.  James  Polder 
was  savagely  biting  his  lips ;  his  hands,  the  elder  saw, 
were  clenched.  "  Your  wife,"  Howat  proceeded, 
"  how  is  she?  "  Polder  gazed  at  him  stonily,  without 
372 


THE  METAL 


reply.  "  I  asked  after  your  wife,"  Howat  repeated 
irritably.  "  No,"  the  other  at  last  said,  "  you  re- 
minded me  of  her.  I  suppose  you  are  right."  He 
turned  and  walked  abruptly  from  the  porch,  into  the 
slowly  dropping  rain. 


37* 


XXXIII 

A  •  "VHE  road  to  Myrtle  Forge  mounted  between 
rolling  cultivated  fields,  the  scattered,  stone 

JL  ruins  of  walls  erected  in  the  earliest  iron 
days ;  and,  after  a  pastoral  course,  came  to  the  Forge 
dwelling,  its  shuttered  bulk  set  in  a  tangle  of  bushes 
and  rank  grass.  An  ancient  beech  tree  swept  the 
ground  with  smooth,  grey  limbs,  surrounded  by  long- 
accumulated  dead  leaves.  James  Polder  shut  off  the 
motor  by  the  low,  stone  wall  that  supported  the  lawn 
from  the  roadway ;  he  crossed  to  the  farm,  where  the 
house  keys  were  kept,  and  Howat  and  Mariana  moved 
slowly  forward.  A  porch,  added,  the  former  said,  in 
Jasper  Penny's  time,  extended  at  the  left;  and  they 
stood  on  the  broken  flooring  and  gazed  down  at  a 
featureless  tangle  once  a  garden  and  the  gnarled  re- 
mainder of  a  small  apple  orchard  beyond. 

Polder  soon  returned,  and  they  proceeded  to  a  door 
on  the  further  side,  where  the  kitchen  angle  partly 
enclosed  a  flagging  of  broad  stones.  Inside,  the 
house,  empty  of  furnishing,  was  a  place  of  echoes 
muffled  in  dust;  the  insidious,  dank  odours  of  cor- 
rupting wood  and  plaster;  walls  with  melancholy, 
superimposed,  stripping  papers ;  older,  sombrely 
blistered  paint  and  panelled  wainscoting  varnished 
374 


THE  METAL 


in  an  imitation,  yellow  graining.  It  was  without  a 
relic  of  past  dignity.  Mariana  was  unable  to  dis- 
cover a  souvenir  of  the  generations  of  Pennys  that 
had  filled  the  rooms  with  the  stir  of  their  living. 
Once  more  outside  they  sat  on  the  stone  threshold 
of  an  office-like  structure  back  of  the  main  dwelling 
and  indulged  in  cigarettes. 

The  disturbing  tension  of  last  night,  Howat 
thought  comfortably,  had  vanished.  Mariana  was 
flippant,  James  Polder  enveloped  in  indolent  ease. 
"  The  Forge,"  Howat  Penny  told  them,  "  was  be- 
low." A  path  descended  across  a  steep  face  of  sparse 
grass ;  and,  at  the  bottom,  Polder's  interest  revived. 
"  It  stood  there,"  he  indicated  a  fallen  shed  beyond  a 
masoned  channel,  choked  with  the  broken  stones  of 
its  walls  and  tangled  shrubbery.  "  You  don't  sup- 
pose a  joke  that  size  was  the  great  Gilbert's  plant. 
Here's  the  drop  for  the  water  power;  yes,  and  the 
iron  pinions  of  the  overshot  wheel."  He  climbed 
down  a  precarious  wall,  and  stood  perhaps  twelve  feet 
below  them.  Securing  a  rough  bolt,  he  brought  it  up 
for  their  inspection.  "  Look  at  that  forging,"  he 
cried ;  "  after  it  has  lain  around  for  a  century  and  a 
half.  Like  silk.  Charcoal  iron,  and  it  was  ham- 
mered, too.  Metal  isn't  half  worked  any  more.  We 
could  turn  that  into  steel  at  almost  nothing  a  ton." 
He  showed  them  in  the  mouldering  shed  the  founda- 
tion of  the  anvil,  traced  the  probable  shafting  of  the 
trip  hammer,  marked  the  location  of  the  hearths. 
"  Three,"  he  decided ;  "  and  a  cold  trickle  of  air.  A 

875 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


nigger  pumping  a  bellows,  probably.  No,  they  could 
get  that  from  the  wheel,"  he  drew  an  explanatory  dia- 
gram in  the  blackened  dust. 

With  the  lunch  basket  on  the  running  board  of  the 
motor  they  ate  sitting  on  the  low  boundary  wall  of 
the  lawn.  The  heat  increased  through  the  late  May 
noon,  and  Howat  remained  while  Mariana  and  James 
Polder  wandered  in  the  direction  of  the  orchard. 
Finally  the  sun  forced  the  former  to  move;  and  he, 
too,  proceeded  in  a  desultory  manner,  entering  the 
shade  of  a  grove  of  old  maples.  The  trees,  their 
earliest  red  leafage  already  emerald,  followed  the  dry 
channel  cut  back  from  Canary  Creek  to  the  Forge, 
and  he  soon  emerged  at  the  broad,  flashing  course  of 
the  stream.  A  flat  rock  jutted  into  the  hurrying 
water  by  an  overthrown  dam,  its  sun-heated  expanse 
now  in  shadow;  and  he  stayed,  listening  to  the  gur- 
gling flow.  Far  above  him  a  hawk  wheeled  in  ambient 
space ;  a  mill  whistle  sounded  remotely  from  Jaffa. 

The  thought  of  Mariana  hovered  at  the  back  of 
his  lulled  being;  all  he  desired,  he  told  himself,  was 
her  complete  happiness.  He  might  even  have  become 
reconciled  to  James  Polder.  His  first,  unfavourable 
opinion  of  the  latter,  he  realized,  had  been  modified 
by  —  by  time.  He  had  judged  Polder  solely  in  the 
light  of  an  old  standard.  The  fellow  was  painfully 
honest;  good  stuff  there,  iron  .  .  .  the  iron  of  the 
Pennys.  But  the  other  strain  had  betrayed  him.  A 
cursed  shame.  The  material  of  the  present,  moulded, 
perhaps,  into  seemingly  new  forms,  was  always  that 
376 


THE  METAL 


of  the  past.  This  Polder  was  Essie  Scofield  and 
Jasper  .  .  .  Byron.  He,  Howat  Penny,  was  Penny 
and  Jannan  and  Penny  —  Daniel,  James,  Casimir, 
and  Howat  once  more,  the  older  Howat  who  had 
married  the  widow  of  Felix  Winscombe.  Black 
again.  He  wondered  what  the  blackness,  not  spent 
like  his  own,  had  brought  the  other.  A  headstrong, 
dark  youth  with  the  characteristic  sloping  eyebrows 
and  slender,  vigorous,  carriage.  The  traditional 
rebellious  spirit  had  involved  Jasper  in  disgrace;  it 
had  thinned  his  own  blood. 

Footfalls  approached  through  the  trees,  and  the 
others  joined  him.  James  Polder  extended  himself 
on  the  rock,  and  Mariana  sat  with  her  hands  clasped 
about  her  slim  knees.  A  silence  intensified  by  the 
whispering  stream  enveloped  them.  The  hawk 
circled  above,  and  Howat  had  an  extraordinary  sense 
of  the  familiarity  of  the  bird  hanging  in  limitless 
space,  of  the  warm  stone  and  water  choking  in  a 
smooth  eddy.  He  had,  as  a  boy,  fished  there.  But 
his  brain  momentarily  swam  with  a  poignant,  un- 
recognizable emotion,  different  from  the  sensation  of 
childhood.  He  rose,  confused  and  giddy.  With  old 
age,  he  muttered. 

Mariana  followed.  "  It's  all  over,"  she  announced, 
decisively.  "  We'll  drive  back  and  leave  to-day." 
She  sighed.  "  That's  gone  already,"  James  Polder 
showed  her  the  sun  slipping  toward  the  western  hills. 
She  moved  up  to  him,  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 
Howat  Penny  went  ahead.  He  must  speak  to  her 

377 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


after  dinner.  As  the  motor  slowly  gathered  mo- 
mentum he  turned  and  looked  back  at  the  dark,  pink- 
ish dwelling  in  its  tangle  of  grass  and  bushes  run 
wild.  Dusk  appeared  to  have  already  gathered  over 
it,  although  the  sun  still  shone  elsewhere  in  lengthen- 
ing dusty  gold  bars ;  the  wide-spread  beech  was  som- 
bre against  blank  shutters,  the  chimneys  broken  and 
cold. 


378 


XXXIV 

A  LETTER  for  James  Polder  was  at  Shad- 
rach,  and  he  opened  it  immediately, 
glancing  over  its  scrawled  sheet.  Howat 
saw  a  curious  expression  overspread  the  other's 
countenance.  He  called,  "  Mariana !  "  in  a  sharp 
tone.  She  appeared  from  the  foot  of  the  steps. 
"  Harriet  never  went  home,"  he  told  her ;  "  this  is 
from  Pittsburgh.  She's  back  on  the  stage."  A  pre- 
monitory dread  filled  Howat  Penny.  Mariana  stood 
quietly,  her  gaze  lifted  to  Polder.  "  She  never  went 
home,"  he  repeated ;  "  but  writes  that  suddenly  she  — 
she  didn't  want  to,  and  couldn't  stand  Harrisburg 
another  week.  She  saw  some  one  and  had  a  part, 
that  ought  to  be  good,  offered  to  her ;  and,  so  — " 

"Is  that  all,  Jim?" 

"  No,"  he  replied ;  "  there  is  more,  absolutely  un- 
justified.  I  think  I'd  like  you  to  read  it.  It  would 
be  best."  Mariana  took  the  letter,  and  followed  its 
irregular  course.  "  It's  true  enough,"  she  said 
quietly,  at  the  end.  "  But  I  don't  in  the  least  mind, 
Jim.  She  had  a  perfect  right  to  something  of  the 
sort.  That  is  —  I'm  not  annoyed  about  what  she 
says  of  me,  but  it  will  upset  you  terribly.  And  it 
has  been  my  fault,  from  the  first."  He  protested 
vehemently,  but  she  stopped  him  with  a  gesture;  then 
walked  to  the  door  opening  on  the  porch ;  where,  her 

379 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


head  up,  she  stood  gazing  out  into  the  serene,  fail- 
ing light. 

James  Polder  followed  her,  and  Howat  heard  the 
screen  softly  close.  He  was  about  to  light  a  ciga- 
rette, but,  his  hand  shaking,  he  laid  it  on  the  table. 
He  put  up  his  glass,  without  purpose,  and  then  let 
it  drop.  Rudolph  was  placing  the  silver  for  dinner ; 
old  forks  faintly  marked  with  a  crest  that  Isabel 
Howat  had  brought  to  her  husband.  A  recurrence 
of  the  afternoon's  sense  of  the  continuity  of  all  liv- 
ing flowed  over  him,  whispering  with  old  voices,  old 
longing  and  sorrow  and  regret,  mingled  dim  features, 
and  the  broken  clasping  of  hands.  He  saw  Mariana 
sweeping  in  a  pale  current  —  a  remote,  eternal  pas- 
sion winding  through  the  transient  body  of  life.  She 
smiled,  her  subdued,  mocking  gaiety  infinitely  appeal- 
ing, and  vanished. 

They  came  in  to  dinner  without  changing  the  in- 
formal garb  of  the  day.  James  Polder  was  silent, 
disturbed,  but  Mariana  was  serenely  commonplace. 
Her  voice,  clear  and  high,  went  unimportantly  on; 
until,  turning  to  Howat  Penny,  she  said  without  the 
changing  of  a  tone.  "  I  want  James  to  take  me  back 
to  Harrisburg  with  him,  but  he  won't."  Howat  en- 
deavoured to  meet  this  insanity  with  the  silence  usu- 
ally opposed  to  Mariana's  frequent  wildness  of  state- 
ment. His  knife  scraped  sharply  against  a  plate; 
but,  in  the  main,  he  successfully  preserved  an  un- 
moved countenance.  "  Now  that  Harriet  has  sur- 
rendered him,"  she  persisted,  "  I  don't  see  why  I  can't 
380 


THE  METAL 


be  considered.  It  is  the  commonest  sense  —  Jim 
can't  live  alone,  properly,  in  that  house ;  I  can't  exist 
properly  without  him.  You  see,  Howat,  how  rea- 
sonable it  seems."  What  he  did  perceive  was  that 
his  attitude  of  inattention  must  be  sharply  deserted. 

"  Your  words,  Mariana,"  he  said  coldly, 
"  *  proper  '  and  '  reasonable,'  in  the  connection  you 
have  used  them,  would  be  ridiculous  if  they  weren't 
disgraceful.  I  have  been  patient  with  a  certain 
amount  of  rash  talk,  yes  —  and  conduct,  but  this 
must  be  the  end.  I  had  intended  to  have  you  leave 
Shadrach  this  morning,  then  later.  Either  that  or 
I'll  be  forced  to  make  my  excuses  to  James  Polder." 
He  glanced  with  a  veiled  anxiety  at  the  latter  but 
could  read  nothing  from  the  lowered,  pinched  counte- 
nance. 

"  We  could  leave  together  if  you  are  tired  of  us," 
Mariana  continued.  "  It's  James,  really,  who  is 
making  all  the  trouble.  He  has  some  stupid  idea 
about  nobility  of  conduct  and  my  best  good.  But 
the  real  truth  is  that  he's  afraid,  for  me,  of  course, 
and  so  he  won't  listen." 

"  Won't  you  show  her  that  it  is  impossible?  "  the 
younger  man  cried  at  Howat  Penny.  "  I  can't  take 
advantage  of  her  heavenly  courage.  She  doesn't 
realize  the  weight  of  opinion.  It  would  make  — " 

"Stuff,"  she  interrupted.  "You'd  make  steel, 
and  I  would  make  an  occasional  dessert.  You  must 
be  told,  Jimmy,  that  the  afternoon  calling  you  have 
confused  with  life  really  isn't  done  any  more.  You 

381 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


have  been  brought  up  in  rather  a  deadly  way.  You 
ought  to  be  saved  from  yourself.  I  am  a  very  ma- 
ture person,  and  I  am  advising  you  calmly." 

The  dinner  had  come  to  an  end ;  a  decanter,  in  old- 
fashioned  blue  and  gold  cutting,  of  brandy,  a  silver 
basket  of  oranges,  the  coffee  cups  and  glasses,  were 
all  that  remained ;  and  James  Polder  played  with  the 
cut  fruit,  the  half-full  cordial  glass  before  him.  "  I 
am  going  to  be  brutally  frank,  Jimmy,"  she  said 
again.  "  You  know  that  is  a  habit  of  mine,  too. 
You  are  a  very  brilliant  young  man,  but  you  are  not 
omnipotent  —  you  require  stiffening,  like  a  collar. 
And  I  would  be  a  splendid  laundress  for  you.  Har- 
riet is  a  long  shot  too  lenient.  I  might  not  be  so 
comfortable  to  live  with,  but  I'd  be  bracing.  I'd 
have  you  in  that  dirty  little  superintendent's  box  in 
no  time." 

He  made  no  reply;  and,  obviously  tormented,  au- 
tomatically squeezed  a  half  orange  into  his  goblet. 
Then  he  took  a  sip  of  brandy. 

"  Together,  James,"  Mariana  asserted,  "  we  would 
go  up  like  a  kite.  By  yourself  —  forgive  me  —  you 
haven't  enough  patience,  enough  balance;  you 
wouldn't  fly  steadily.  You  might  break  all  your 
sticks  on  the  ground."  He  moodily  emptied  what  re- 
mained of  his  brandy  into  the  goblet  and  orange 
juice,  and  pushed  it  impatiently  away.  "  I'd  rather 
do  that,"  he  answered,  "  than  try  to  carry  you  with 
me  on  such  a  flight." 

Howat  Penny  was  conscious  of  a  diminution  of  his 
382 


THE  METAL 


fears.  He  had  entirely  underrated  James  Polder ; 
the  latter  was  an  immense  sight  steadier  than  Mari- 
ana. His  thoughts  strayed  momentarily  to  Harriet, 
back  again  in  her  public  orbit.  He  could  imagine 
that  she  had  found  Harrisburg  insuperably  dull,  the 
hours  with  only  Cherette  empty  after  the  emotional 
debauches  of  the  plays  elected  by  Vivian  Blane.  Yes, 
this  young  Polder  would  stand  admirably  firm. 
Mariana  frowned  at  the  cobalt  smoke  of  her  ciga- 
rette. "  I  am  in  a  very  bad  temper,"  she  told  them. 
"  No  one  for  a  minute  thinks  of  what  my  feeling  may 
be.  You  are  both  entirely  concerned  with  your  own 
nice  sense  of  virtue." 

"  Not  at  all,  but  of  your  future,"  Howat  Penny 
asserted. 

Her  lower  lip  assumed  the  contempt  of  which  it 
was  pre-eminently  capable.  She  made  no  immediate 
reply.  James  Polder's  fingers  absently  clasped  the 
goblet  before  him ;  he  drew  it  toward  his  plate,  tipped 
the  thick  liquid  it  contained.  "  Just  what  do  you 
recommend  me  to  do?"  Mariana  challenged  Howat. 
"  Go  through  with  a  lifeful  of  winters  like  the  last ! 
Marry  another  Sam  Lewis!  I  am  not  celebrated 
for  reliability ;  it  is  only  with  Jimmy  — "  she  broke 
off.  Howat  Penny  recalled  her  callous  expression, 
photographed  in  Egyptian  dress  at  a  period  ball, 
her  description  of  the  hard  riding  and  reckless 
parties  of  the  transplanted  English  colonies  in  the 
south. 

Polder  lifted  the  goblet  to  his  lips,  but  set  it  back 

383 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


untasted.  Howat  looked  away  from  Mariana's 
scornful  interrogation,  unable  to  reply.  Finally, 
"  I  am  old,  as  you  once  reminded  me,"  he  stated ; 
"  I'm  out  of  my  time,  don't  understand.  I  can  only 
remember,  and  remembering  isn't  any  longer  of  use. 
The  men  I  knew,  the  kind,  I  hope,  I  was,  would  ruin 
themselves  a  hundred  times  before  compromising  a 
woman.  Polder  appears  to  understand  that.  And 
women  I  had  the  privilege  of  meeting  sacrificed  them- 
selves with  a  smile  for  what  you  dismiss  as  mere  stu- 
pidity. God  knows  which  is  right.  They  looked 
the  loveliest  of  creatures  then.  There  was  a  stand- 
ard, we  thought  high  .  .  .  Things  a  man  couldn't 
do.  But  I  don't  know  —  it  seems  so  long  ago."  He 
stopped  to  watch  James  Polder  take  a  sip  of  the 
mixture  in  his  hand.  The  latter  tasted  it  slowly, 
and  then  emptied  the  goblet.  His  face  was  blank, 
with  eyes  nearly  closed. 

"  I  could  carry  Jimmy  up  in  my  hands,"  Mariana 
said.  "  Don't,"  she  added  vaguely,  as  he  squeezed 
out  the  remaining  half  of  his  orange  and  poured 
fresh  brandy  into  it.  "  It's  curious,"  he  told  her  ? 
"  not  at  all  bad." 

They  moved  out  of  the  dining  room,  and  Mariana 
and  Polder  continued  to  the  porch.  Howat  stood 
with  a  hand  resting  on  the  mahogany  cigarette  box ; 
he  had  the  feeling  of  a  man  unexpectedly  left  by  a 
train  thundering  into  the  distance.  It  would  not 
stop,  back,  for  him  now;  he  was  dropped.  He  sank 
relaxed  into  an  accustomed  chair;  his  brain  surren- 
384 


THE  METAL 


dered  its  troubling;  the  waking  somnolence  settled 
over  him.  He  was  conscious  of  his  surrounding, 
recognized  its  actuality;  yet,  at  the  same  time,  it 
seemed  immaterial,  like  the  setting  of  a  dream.  He 
roused  himself  after  a  little  and  smoked,  nodding 
his  head  to  emphasize  the  points  of  his  thought. 

This  Polder  had  shown  the  instinct  of  breeding; 
while  Mariana  was — just  what  she  was  he  couldn't 
for  the  life  of  him  determine.  A  hussy,  he  decided 
temporarily.  After  all,  his  own  time,  when  black 
and  white  had  been  distinguishable,  was  best. 
Howat  Penny  relinquished,  with  a  sigh,  the  effort  to 
penetrate  to-day;  he  was  content  to  be  left  behind; 
out  of  the  grinding  rush,  the  dizzy  speed,  of  pro- 
gression. His  day,  when  black  had  been  black,  was 
immeasurably  superior;  the  women  had  been  more 
charming,  the  men  erect,  clothed  in  proper  garb  and 
pride.  Where,  now,  could  be  seen  such  an  audience 
as  Dr.  Damrosch  had  gathered  for  his  first  season 
of  German  opera?  Not,  certainly,  at  the  perform- 
ance he  had  heard  with  Mariana  two,  no  —  three, 
winters  ago.  A  vulgarized  performance  in  the  spirit 
of  a  boulevard  cafe.  The  whole  present  air,  he  told 
himself,  was  wrong. 

He  looked  at  his  watch,  and  was  surprised  to  see 
that  it  was  past  ten.  Not  a  sound  came  from  the 
porch ;  and  he  determined  to  go  outside,  exercise  the 
discretion  which  Mariana  had  cast  to  the  winds. 
However,  he  didn't  stir ;  he  could  not  summon  the  en- 
ergy necessary  for  the  combating  of  their  impetuous 

386 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


youth.  He  unfolded  a  paper,  but  it  drooped  on  his 
knees,  slid,  finally,  to  the  floor.  Then  Mariana  ap- 
peared, walked  swiftly,  without  a  word,  through  the 
room,  and  vanished  upstairs.  Not  even  a  civil  period 
at  the  end  of  the  evening.  After  another,  long  wait 
James  Polder  entered.  The  latter  stood  uneasily  by 
the  table,  with  a  furrowed  brow,  a  ridiculous,  twitch- 
ing mouth. 

Polder  went  out  into  the  dining  room;  where, 
through  the  doorway,  Howat  Penny  could  see  him 
hovering  over  the  silver  basket  of  oranges,  placed 
upon  the  sideboard.  "  If  you  don't  mind,"  he  called 
back,  and  there  were  a  rattle  of  knives,  a  thin  ring 
of  glass.  The  light  was  dim  beyond,  and  he  stood 
in  the  doorway  with  the  brandy  decanter  and  orange 
juice.  He  drained  the  mixture  and  leaned,  absorbed, 
against  the  woodwork.  "  This  is  a  hell  of  a  world !  " 
he  exclaimed  suddenly.  "  Everything  worth  having 
is  fenced  off.  A  woman  won't  understand.  Does 
any  one  suppose  that  I  don't  want  Mariana!  It's 
the  responsibility.  She's  right  —  I  am  afraid  of  it. 
And  she  laughed  at  me.  Nothing  cowardly  in  her,'* 
his  voice  deepened. 

"  It  is  ignorance,"  Howat  stated. 

"  I  thought  so,  for  a  minute ;  you  are  wrong. 
She's  had  more  experience  than  we'd  get  in  a  thou- 
sand years.  The  life  she  knows  would  fix  that.  She 
talked  me  into  a  tangled  foolishness  in  five  minutes ; 
made  me  look  like  a  whiskered  hypocrite.  Nothing 
I  said  sounded  real,  and  yet  I  must  be  right.  Sup- 
386 


THE  METAL 


pose  Harriet  should  turn  nasty,  suppose  —  oh,  a 
thousand  things." 

"  It  isn't  arguable,"  Howat  Penny  agreed. 

This  afforded  the  other  no  consolation.  "  What 
is  she  to  do?  "  he  demanded.  "  Mariana  won't  set- 
tle quietly  against  a  wall.  She  told  you  that.  She's 
full  of  —  of  a  sort  of  energy  that  must  be  at  some- 
thing. Mariana  hasn't  the  anchor  of  most  women 
—  respectability." 

"  Am  I  to  gather  that  that  is  no  longer  considered 
admirable? "  the  elder  inquired.  "  If  you  gather 
anything  you  are  lucky,"  Polder  replied  gloomily. 
"  I'm  not  sure  about  my  own  name.  Good-night," 
he  disappeared  abruptly. 

Above,  Howat  slowly  made  his  preparations  for  re- 
tiring, infinitely  weary.  Waking  problems  fell  from 
him  like  a  leaden  weight  into  the  sea  of  unconscious- 
ness. He  was  relieved,  at  breakfast,  to  see  Mariana 
come  down  in  a  hat,  with  the  jacket  of  her  suit  on 
an  arm.  He  waited  for  her  to  indicate  the  train  by 
which  she  was  leaving,  so  that  he  could  tell  Honduras 
to  have  the  motor  ready;  but  she  sat  around  in  a 
dragging  silence.  Polder  walked  up  and  down  the 
room  in  which  they  were  gathered.  Howat  wished 
he  would  stop  his  clattering  movement.  An  expres- 
sion of  ill-nature  deepened  in  Mariana ;  she  looked 
her  ugliest ;  and  James  Polder  was  perceptibly 
fogged  from  a  lack  of  sleep.  Finally  he  said: 

"  Look  here,  we  can't  go  on  like  this."  He 
stopped  in  front  of  Mariana,  with  a  quivering  face. 

387 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

She  raised  her  eyebrows.  "  Come  outside,"  he 
begged.  "  What's  the  use  ?  "  she  replied ;  but,  at 
the  same  time,  she  rose.  "  Don't  get  desperate, 
Howat,"  she  said  over  her  shoulder.  "  Even  I  can't 
do  any  more ;  I  can  only  take  my  shamelessness  back 
to  Andalusia."  Polder  held  open  the  screen  door; 
and  as,  without  her  jacket,  she  went  out,  Howat 
Penny  had  a  final  glimpse  of  the  man  bending  at  her 
side.  Like  two  fish  in  a  net,  he  thought  ungra- 
ciously. He  was  worn  out  by  their  infernal  flop- 
ping. With  a  determined  movement  of  his  shoul- 
ders, a  fixing  of  his  glass,  he  turned  to  the  accumula- 
tion of  his  papers. 

Later  he  heard  the  changing  gears  of  a  motor. 
He  thought  for  a  moment  that  it  was  Honduras  at 
his  own  car;  then  he  recognized  the  stroke  of  a  far 
heavier  engine.  The  powerful,  ungraceful  bulk  of 
an  English  machine  was  stopping  at  his  door.  Im- 
mediately after  he  distinguished  the  slightly  harsh, 
dominating  voice  of  Peter  Provost.  The  latter  en- 
tered, followed  by  Kingsfrere  Jannan.  Peter  Pro- 
vost, a  member  of  the  New  York  family  and  connec- 
tion of  the  Jannans,  had,  since  the  elder  Jannan's 
death,  charge  of  the  family's  interest  in  the  banking 
firm  of  Provost,  Jannan  and  Provost.  He  occupied, 
Howat  knew,  a  position  of  general  advisor  to  Char- 
lotte and  her  children.  He  was  a  large  man  who 
had  never  lost  the  hardness  of  a  famous  university 
career  in  the  football  field,  with  a  handsome,  cold 
countenance  and  spiked,  grey  moustache.  He  shook 
388 


THE  METAL 


hands  with  Howat  Penny,  and  plunged  directly  into 
his  present  purpose. 

"  Kingsf  rere,"  he  said,  "  has  heard  some  cheap 
stuff  in  the  city,  principally  about  that  young  Pol- 
der married  last  fall.  Personally,  I  laughed  at  it, 
but  Charlotte  seemed  upset.  This  Polder's  wife,  an 
actress,  has  left  her  husband,  and  gone  back  to  the 
stage  because  —  so  Byron  asserted ;  you  know  Byron 
—  Mariana  had  broken  up  their  home." 

"  Old  Polder  said  just  that,"  Kingsfrere  affirmed. 
"  And  that  wasn't  all  —  he  added  that  Mariana  was 
out  here  with  the  fellow." 

Provost  laughed. 

"  Well,"  Howat  Penny  replied,  "  James  Polder 
is  staying  at  Shadrach.  He  was  asked  here 
because  his  health  was  threatening.  He  had  two 
weeks  leave;  and,  although  I  wasn't  really  anxious, 
I  said  he  might  recuperate  with  me." 

"  And  Mariana?  "  Provost  inquired. 

"  Came  out  day  before  yesterday,  late ;  leaving  this 
morning." 

Howat  Penny  was  conscious  of  a  growing  anger. 
There  was  no  reason  for  his  submitting  to  an  in- 
terrogation by  Peter  Provost;  he  didn't  have  to 
justify  his  actions,  the  selection  of  his  guests;  and 
he  had  no  intention  of  explaining  his  attitude  toward 
Mariana.  But  Provost,  it  became  evident,  had  no 
inclination  to  be  intrusive.  It  was,  he  made  that 
clear,  wholly  Charlotte.  But  Kingsfrere  Jannan 
was  increasingly  impatient.  "  Where  is  Polder  ?  "  he 

389 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


demanded.  Howat  surveyed  him  with  neither  favour 
nor  reply.  Suddenly  he  understood  the  feeling  of 
both  men  —  they  considered  that  he  was  too  old  to 
have  any  grip  or  comprehension  of  life.  They  were 
quietly  but  obviously  relegating  him  to  the  back  of 
the  scene.  His  anger  mounted;  he  was  about  to 
make  a  sharp  reply,  when  he  paused.  There  was  a 
possibility  that  they  were  right;  he  was,  undoubt- 
edly, old;  and  he  had  been  unable  to  influence,  turn, 
Mariana,  in  the  slightest  degree.  He  didn't  approve 
of  her  present,  head-strong  course  .  .  .  only  a  few 
hours  ago  he  had  voluntarily,  gladly,  relinquished 
all  effort  to  comprehend  it. 

"  Perhaps,"  Provost  suggested,  "  since  we  are 
here  we'd  better  talk  to  him.  I  suppose  they're 
out  about  the  place.  You  could  send  Rudolph." 
Howat  replied  that  he  would  find  them  himself.  He 
wanted,  now,  to  prepare  James  Polder  for  any  inci- 
dental unpleasantness.  The  latter,  he  knew,  had  a 
hasty  temper,  a  short  store  of  patience.  After  all, 
he  had  acted  very  well  in  a  difficult  situation.  It  had 
been  Mariana.  Howat  Penny  was  aware  of  a  grow- 
ing sympathy  for  young  Polder.  His  was  a  more 
engaging  person  than  Kingsfrere's  pasty  presence 
and  sharp  reputation  at  cards.  He  got  his  hat,  and 
went  out  over  the  thick,  smooth  sod,  into  the  slum- 
berous, blue  radiance  of  the  early  summer  noon. 

He  found  Mariana  and  James  Polder  sitting  on  a 
bank  by  the  Furnace.  "  Peter  Provost's  here  with 
Kingsfrere,"  he  told  them  quietly.  "  They  want  to 
390 


THE  METAL 


see  .  .  .  James,  about  some  nonsense  bantered 
around  town."  Polder  rose  quickly,  instantly  an- 
tagonistic. "At  the  house?  "  he  demanded,  already 
moving  away.  Mariana  stopped  him  with  a  hand 
on  his  shoulder.  "  Don't  pay  any  attention  to  what 
they  may  say,  Jimmy,"  she  commanded.  "  It  isn't 
Peter  Provost's  affair,  and  Kingsfrere  in  a  fatherly 
pose  is  a  scream."  They  moved  forward  together. 
"  I'll  see  them,"  she  added  cuttingly. 

"  I  will  attend  to  this,"  James  Polder  told  her. 
"  I  don't  want  any  woman  explaining  my  actions. 
They  haven't  a  whisper  on  me.  I'm  glad  enough  of 
an  opportunity  to  talk  to  a  man." 

"  If  you  lose  your  temper  — "  Howat  commenced, 
but  Mariana  impatiently  interrupted  him.  "  Why 
shouldn't  Jim  lose  his  temper  ?  "  she  demanded.  "  I 
would.  Personally,  I'd  be  glad  if  he  did,  although  it 
mightn't  be  fortunate  for  Kingsfrere.  He's  a  good 
deal  of  a  dumpling.  But  I  will  be  furious  if  you 
look  guilty.  Tell  them  we're  mad  about  each  other 
and  that  I  am  waiting  for  the  smallest  encourage- 
ment to  go  with  you." 

Howat  Penny  left  Mariana  at  the  door,  and  went 
in  with  Polder.  Provost  was  seated,  with  an  open 
paper ;  Kingsfrere  studying  the  photograph  of  Scal- 
chi.  "  This,"  said  Howat  generally,  "  is  my  guest, 
James  Polder."  Peter  Provost  extended  his  square, 
powerful  hand;  but  the  other,  Jannan,  made  no 
movement.  "  Well  ?  "  Polder  demanded  aggressively. 
Howat  Penny  proceeded  through  the  room  to  the 

391 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


porch,  where  he  met  Mariana.  They  walked  to  the 
further  end  and  found  chairs.  "  What  makes  me 
sick,"  Mariana  proceeded,  "  is  the  way  men  calmly 
take  everything  into  their  own  hands ;  as  if  women 
were  still  tied  up,  naughty  bundles.  Jim  will  have 
all  the  fun,  and  he  has  only  said  *  no  J  in  horrified 
tones." 

Again  he  could  think  of  no  adequate  reply.  He 
listened  in  vain  for  the  sound  of  raised  voices  within. 
"  What,  in  heaven's  name,  brought  them  ?  "  Howat 
told  her  what  he  had  heard.  "  I'm  glad  I  did  break 
up  that  mess  they  called  a  home,"  she  asserted.  "  It 
was  rotten  with  stale  beer  and  half  pounds  of  liver 
for  that  disgusting  animal !  " 

The  heat  increased  in  waves ;  a  wagon  passing  on 
the  road  below  was  enveloped  in  a  cloud  of  dust. 
"  I  wish  they'd  hurry,"  Mariana  said  sharply. 
Howat  Penny  thought  he  heard  Kingsfrere  speak- 
ing in  abrupt  periods.  Then  a  chair  scraped,  and 
Peter  Provost's  deliberate  voice  became  audible.  It 
was,  however,  impossible  to  distinguish  his  words ; 
but  suddenly  Polder  exclaimed,  "  Say  something  I 
can  pound  into  you."  Mariana  rose,  her  hands 
clenched.  "  Go  back  to  your  mouldy  little  life ! " 
James  Polder  continued.  "  I'm  not  surprised  Miss 
Jannan  wants  to  get  out  of  it.  I  am  sorry  I  hesi- 
tated. It  seemed  to  me  I  couldn't  offer  her  anything 
good  enough ;  but  that  was  before  I'd  listened  to  you. 
.  .  .  And  if  you  in  particular  come  worming  about 
me  again  I'll  smash  your  flat  face."  The  screen 
392 


THE  METAL 


door  was  wrenched  violently  open,  and  James  Pol- 
der strode  up  to  Mariana.  "  Suppose  we  get  out 
of  this  slag  pit,"  he  said,  his  chest  labouring;  "I 
can't  breathe  here." 

"  I  am  ready,  Jimmy,"  she  replied  quietly ;  "  per- 
haps Howat  will  look  up  a  train  and  let  Honduras 
drive  us  to  the  station."  She  laid  her  hand  on  his 
arm.  "  Now  we  can  forget  them,"  she  said.  They 
turned,  and,  together,  vanished  into  the  house. 
Howat  Penny  followed  them  slowly.  He  found  Peter 
Provost  apparently  undisturbed.  "  Nothing  to  be 
done,"  the  latter  commented.  "  I  saw  that  immedi- 
ately he  turned  up.  Kingsf rere  made  a  short  effort, 
but  it  wasn't  conspicuously  successful;  I  imagine  it 
rather  worse  than  failed.  God  knows  what's  getting 
into  these  young  women,  Howat  —  Eliza  and  the 
rest  of  'em  —  it's  a  gamble  they  don't.  All  right, 
Kingsfrere."  Jannan  lingered  with  a  dark  mutter, 
but  the  other  unceremoniously  drove  him  into  the 
waiting  car. 

Mariana  soon  descended,  with  Polder  carrying 
two  bags.  "  One  seven,"  Howat  told  them.  In  the 
extraordinary  situation  he  found  nothing  adequate 
to  say.  Mariana  might  have  been  going  unremark- 
ably  to  Charlotte  and  her  home;  she  was  absolutely 
contained.  James  Polder  had  a  dazed  expression; 
without  his  companion,  Howat  thought,  he  would 
blunder  into  the  walls.  He  stood,  holding  the  bags 
until  told  to  put  them  down.  Honduras  was  soon  at 
the  door.  Mariana  moved  forward,  and  mechan- 

393 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

ically  Howat  Penny  made  his  customary  pretence  of 
avoiding  her  kiss.  The  warm  fragrance  of  her  lips 
remained  long  after  she  had  gone. 

A  pervasive  stillness  settled  upon  Shadrach;  out- 
side the  sunlight  lay  on  the  hills  in  a  thick,  yellow 
veil ;  the  cool  interior  held  only  the  familiar  crepita- 
tion of  the  old  clock  above.  Now,  he  told  himself, 
he  could  read  the  papers  peacefully ;  but  he  sat  with 
empty  hands.  Mariana  had  gone.  "  Outrageous 
conduct,"  he  said  aloud,  without  conviction.  His 
voice  sounded  thin,  unfamiliar.  His  dreams  of  her 
continued  superiority  to  the  commonplace,  of  her 
fine  aloofness  like  the  elevation  of  the  strains  of  Or- 
feo,  had  been  utterly  destroyed.  He  could  not  imag- 
ine a  greater  descent  than  the  one  which  had  over- 
taken her.  As  he  rehearsed  its  details  they  seemed 
increasingly  disgraceful.  He  could  not  forgive 
James  Polder  for  his  relapse,  his  shocking  failure  to 
maintain  the  standards,  the  obligations,  bred  into 
himself,  Howat  Penny,  by  so  many  years,  and  by 
blood.  It  was  that  miserable  old  business  of  Jas- 
per's once  more,  blighting  the  present,  betraying 
Mariana. 

This  wheeled  in  his  brain  throughout  summer. 
He  had,  as  he  expected,  no  word  from  her.  Char- 
lotte, too,  sent  no  line;  he  was  isolated  in  the  in- 
creasing and  waning  heat,  in  a  sea  of  greenery  grow- 
ing heavy  and  grey  with  dust,  then  swept  by  rain,  and 
touched  with  the  scarlet  finality  of  frost.  Rudolph 
lit  again  the  hickory  fires  in  the  middle  hearth ;  the 
394 


THE  METAL 


days  shortened  rapidly;  sitting  before  the  glow  of 
the  logs  he  could  see,  through  a  western  window,  the 
afternoon  expiring  in  a  sullen  red  flame.  The  leaves 
streamed  sibilantly  by  the  eaves  and  accumulated  in 
dry,  russet  heaps  in  angles  and  hollows ;  they  burned 
in  crackling  fires,  filling  the  air  with  a  drifting  haze 
rich  with  suggestion  and  memories.  He  saw  the 
first  snow  on  a  leaden  morning  when  the  flexible  and 
bald  white  covering,  devoid  of  charm,  held  the  sig- 
nificance of  barrenness,  death.  All  day  this  chilling 
similitude  lingered  in  his  mind.  He  walked  about 
the  house  slowly,  unpleasantly  conscious  of  the  strik- 
ing of  his  feet  on  the  wood  floors. 

At  Christmas  a  revival  of  spirit  overtook  him;  a 
long  letter  came  from  Mariana,  Bundy  Provost  sent 
him  a  tall  silver  tankard,  with  a  lid,  for  his  night 
table.  Howat,  polishing  his  glass  with  a  maroon 
bandanna,  read  Mariana's  letter  in  the  yellow  light 
of  the  lamp  and  burning  logs. 

"  I  have  been  to  see  a  new  steel  process,"  she 
wrote ;  "  the  Duplex,  with  immense  tilting  furnaces 
and  the  Bessemer  blast.  I  know  a  great  deal  about 
iron  now;  far  more  than  a  Howat  Penny  who  should 
be  an  authority.  Jim  is  frightfully  busy,  but  lately 
he  has  been  able  to  sleep  after  the  night  shift,  which 
makes  it  better  for  every  one.  He  is  one  of  the  best 
men  here,  and  that  comes  from  the  Works,  and  the 
reorganization  is  slowly  but  surely  progressing,  and 
we  are  progressing  with  it.  I  am  not  a  particle 
lonely,  with  only  one  servant;  really  don't  want  an- 

395 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


other,  and  make  a  great  deal  more  than  desserts. 
You  have  no  idea  how  absorbing  it  is  to  have  a  lot 
of  things  that  must  be  done.  The  days  simply  fade. 
You  mustn't  worry  about  me,  Howat;  I  always 
hated  polite  affairs  and  parties  and  people;  even 
when  I  was  young  as  possible  I  was  more  than  any- 
thing else  a  Hell  in  the  Corner." 

He  smiled,  recognizing  an  old  flippant  phrase, 
and  let  his  hand  drop  while  he  recalled  Mariana  — 
turning  to  him  to  hook  her  gown,  constructing  an- 
noying towers  with  the  dominoes,  reprehensible  and 
amusing.  He  resumed  reading: 

"  It  would  be  wonderful  if  —  no,  it  is  wonderful ! 
But  Howat,  I  can  tell  only  you  this,  I  wish  oranges 
had  never  been  invented."  He  drew  his  mouth  into 
a  compressed  line.  James  was  drinking.  He  re- 
membered when  the  other  first  made  the  concoction 
of  orange  juice  and  brandy;  he  saw  him  clearly, 
leaning  in  the  doorway  to  the  dining  room,  with  the 
emptied  goblet,  and  a  curious,  introspective  expres- 
sion on  his  mobile  countenance.  "  He  ought  to  be 
hung ! "  he  exclaimed  sharply.  The  fellow  should 
see  himself  as  a  mat  for  Mariana's  feet.  But  that 
wasn't  life,  he  realized;  existence  seemed  to  become 
more  and  more  heedless  of  the  proprieties,  of  the  sim- 
plest concessions  to  duty.  He  saw  the  world  as  a 
ship  which,  admirably  navigated  a  score  or  more 
years  ago,  had  jammed  its  rudder.  No  one  could 
predict  what  rocks  the  unmanageable  sphere  might 
be  driving  for. 
396 


THE  METAL 


The  significance  born  by  that  sentence  robbed  the 
remainder  of  the  letter  of  pleasure.  He  read  that 
Mariana  had  ordered  the  customary  gift  of  ciga- 
rettes, and  hoped  they  would  last  him  longer  than 
everybody  knew  they  would.  The  implied  affection 
of  all  the  paragraphs  was  visible  in  the  last  words. 
He  put  the  letter  carefully  away.  The  cigarettes 
were  sufficient  for  a  considerable  time  beyond  cus- 
tomary. Something  of  his  appetite  had  gone;  the 
periods  of  half  wakeful  slumber  in  his  chair  drew 
out  through  whole  evenings.  The  actual  world  re- 
treated; his  memories,  as  bright  as  ever,  became  a 
little  confused;  the  years,  figures,  mingled  incongru- 
ously; famous  arias  were  transposed  to  operas  in 
which  they  had  not  been  sung. 

Winter  retreated,  but  the  latter  part  of  March 
and  April  were  bitterly  cold ;  no  leaves  appeared ;  the 
ground  remained  barren ;  he  seldom  got  out. 

The  albums  of  programmes  were  brought  from 
their  place  on  the  low  shelves,  but  now,  more  than 
often,  they  were  barely  opened,  scanned.  Then, 
on  an  evening  when  belated  snow  was  sifting  through 
the  cracks  of  the  solid  shutters,  he  came  on  an  ob- 
long package,  wrapped  in  strong  paper.  He  opened 
it,  in  a  momentary  revival  of  interest,  of  life.  It 
was  a  tall  ledger,  bound  in  crumbling  calf,  with 
stained  and  wrinkled  leaves.  Howat  had  not  seen 
it  for  twenty  years,  but  he  recalled  immediately  that 
it  was  a  forge  book  kept  in  Gilbert  Penny's  day; 
then  Myrtle  Forge  had  been  new,  that  other  Howat 

397 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 

alive.  He  opened  it  carefully,  powdered  his  knees 
with  leather  dust,  and  studied  the  faded  entries ; 
what  flourishing,  pale  violet  initials,  what  rubicund 
lines  and  endings ! 

There  were  two  handwritings,  listing  commonplace 
transactions  now  invested  by  time  with  an  accumu- 
lated, poignant  significance,  one  smooth  and  clerkly, 
the  other  abrupt,  with  heavy,  impatient  strokes. 
Youth,  probably,  held  at  an  unwelcome  task;  and, 
more  than  likely,  Howat  .  .  .  October,  in  seventeen 
fifty.  Years  of  virility,  of  struggle  and  conquest, 
of  iron  —  iron,  James  Polder  had  shown  him,  still 
uncorrupted,  better  than  the  metal  of  to-day  —  and 
iron-like  men.  The  ledger  slipped  to  the  floor,  tear- 
ing the  spongy  leather  and  crumbling  the  sere  leaves. 
He  recovered  it,  dismayed  at  the  damage  wrought. 
A  sheet  apparently  had  come  loose,  and  he  bent  for- 
ward with  difficulty,  a  swimming  head.  Howat  made 
an  attempt  to  find  its  place,  when  he  discovered  that 
it  was  not  a  part  of  the  volume.  It  was,  he  saw,  a 
note,  obliterated  by  creases  but  with  some  lines  still 
legible,  hurriedly  scrawled,  by  a  woman: 

"  You  must  be  more  careful.  .  .  .  Your  mother. 
So  hot-headed,  Howat.  I  can't  do  what  you  ask. 
I  have  a  headache  now  thinking  about  Felix  and  you 
and  myself.  No  one  must  find  out."  What  fol- 
lowed was  lost,  then  came  a  signature  that,  with  the 
aid  of  a  reading  glass,  he  barely  deciphered  — "  Lu- 
dowika." 

That  was  the  name  of  the  woman,  a  widow,  Gil- 
398 


THE  METAL 


bert's  son  had  married.  Her  first  husband,  Felix 
Winscombe,  had  died  at  Myrtle  Forge  during  a  dip- 
lomatic mission  from  England.  .  .  .  An  old  man 
with  a  young  wife!  His  confusion,  slowly  resolv- 
ing into  a  comprehension  of  what  the  note  implied, 
filled  him  with  an  increasing  revolt.  The  earlier 
Howat,  too,  like  Jasper,  in  the  tangle  of  an  intrigue 
—  not  a  public  scandal  and  shame,  as  had  been  the 
later,  but  no  less  offensive.  In  a  flare  of  anger 
Howat  Penny  crumpled  the  paper  and  flung  it  into 
the  fire.  There  it  instantly  blackened,  burst  into 
flame  and  wavered,  a  shuddering  cinder,  up  the  chim- 
ney. He  put  the  ledger,  loosely  wrapped  in  its  cov- 
ering, on  the  table,  and  sat  breathing  rapidly,  curi- 
ously disturbed.  The  old  fault,  projected  so  unex- 
pectedly out  of  the  faithless  burial  of  the  past, 
struck  at  him  with  the  weight  of  a  personal  affront. 

The  heat  subsided  in  the  hearth,  with  the  nightly 
ebbing  of  steam  in  the  radiator;  the  hickory,  disin- 
tegrating into  blocks,  faded  from  cherry  red  to  pul- 
sating, and  finally  dead,  ash.  Lost  in  the  bitterness 
of  his  thoughts  he  made  no  movement  to  replenish 
the  fire. 

He  wondered  if  the  explored  histories  of  other 
families  would  show  such  scarring  records  as  his  own. 
Were  there  everywhere,  back  of  each  heart,  puddles, 
sloughs,  masked  in  the  deceiving  probity  maintained 
for  public  view?  And  now  —  Mariana !  Yet,  some- 
how, her  affair  did  not  appear  as  ugly  as  these 
others.  Stated  coldly,  in  conventional  terms,  it  was 

399 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 


little  different.  Why,  in  plain  words  she  had  .  .  . 
but  Mariana  evaded  plain  words,  her  challenging 
courage  forbade  them.  Here  was  more  than  could 
be  arraigned,  convicted,  by  a  stereotyped  judgment. 
Or  perhaps  this  was  only  his  affection  for  her,  blind- 
ing him  to  the  truth. 

The  first  Howat  and  Jasper,  striking  contemptu- 
ously across  the  barriers  of  social  morals,  lived  in 
Mariana,  alone  with  James  Polder  in  illegitimate  cir- 
cumstance, and  in  himself  —  an  old  man  without  fam- 
ily, without  the  supporting  memory  of  actual  achieve- 
ment; the  negative  decay  of  a  negative  existence. 
His  mind,  confronted  by  a  painful  complexity  of  un- 
answerable problems,  failed  utterly.  He  was  con- 
scious of  his  impotence  chilling  his  blood,  deadening 
his  nerves.  Thin  tears  fell  over  his  hollow  cheeks ; 
and  he  rose  shakily,  fiercely  dragging  at  his  ban- 
danna. 

But  he  discovered  that  his  hand  was  numb  with 
cold.  The  fire  lay  black  and  dead.  The  shrilling 
wind,  ladened  with  snow,  wrenched  at  the  shutters. 
The  room  was  bitter.  He  must  get  up  to  bed  .  .  . 
warm  blankets.  A  chill  touched  him  with  an  icy 
breath.  It  overtook  him  midway  on  the  stair,  and 
he  clung  to  the  railing,  appalled  at  its  violence  in  his 
fragile  being.  He  got,  finally,  to  his  room,  to  the 
edge  of  his  bed,  where  he  sat  waiting  for  the  assault 
to  subside.  He  wanted  Rudolph,  but  the  effort  to 
move  to  the  door,  call,  appeared  insuperable.  The 
400 


THE  METAL 


chill  left  him;  and  blundering,  hideously  delayed,  he 
wrapped  himself  in  the  bed  covering. 

Not  all  the  wool  in  the  world,  he  thought,  would  be 
sufficient  to  drive  the  cold  from  his  body.  He  fell 
into  a  temporary  exhaustion  of  sleep ;  but  was  waked 
later  by  sharp  and  oppressive  pains  in  his  chest, 
deepening  when  he  breathed.  The  suffering  must  be 
mastered,  and  he  lay  with  gripping  hands,  striving 
by  force  of  will  to  overcome  what  he  thought  of  as 
the  brutal  play  of  small,  sharp  knives.  He  con- 
quered, it  seemed ;  the  pain  grew  less ;  but  it  had  left 
an  increasing  difficulty  in  his  breathing;  it  was  a 
labour  to  absorb  sufficient  air  even  for  his  small, 
aged  demands.  Sleep  deserted  him;  and  he  waited 
through  seeming  years  for  the  delayed  appearance 
of  dawn.  He  had  hoped  that  the  new  day  would  be 
sunny,  warm ;  it  was  overcast,  he  could  see  the  snow 
drifted  in  the  lower  window  panes. 

Rudolph  usually  knocked  at  the  door  at  half  past 
eight;  but,  apparently,  to-day  he  had  forgot. 
Howat  Penny's  watch  lay  on  the  table,  at  his  hand, 
yet  it  was  far  distant;  he  couldn't  face  the  heavy 
effort  of  its  inspection.  At  last  the  man  came  in 
with  his  even  morning  greeting.  Howat  was  so  ex- 
hausted that  he  could  make  no  reply ;  and  Rudolph 
moved  silently  to  the  bedside.  His  expression,  for 
an  instant,  was  deeply  concerned.  "  I  have  a  cold, 
or  something  of  the  sort,"  the  other  said.  He  raised 
his  head,  but  sank  back,  with  a  thin,  audible  inspira- 

401 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 

tion.  "  It  would  be  best,  sir,  to  have  the  doctor  from 
Jaffa,"  the  servant  suggested.  Howat,  in  the  midst 
of  protest,  closed  his  eyes;  the  pain  had  returned. 
When  he  had  again  defeated  it  Rudolph  was  gone. 

The  room  blurred,  lost  its  walls,  became  formless 
space;  out  of  which,  to  his  pleasurable  surprise, 
he  saw  the  carefully  garbed  figure  of  Colonel  Maple- 
son  walking  toward  him.  He  never  forgot  that  tea 
rose !  Confound  him  —  probably  another  benefit  for 
one  of  his  indigent  song  birds.  As  Howat  was  about 
to  speak  the  Colonel  disappeared.  It  was  Scalchi, 
in  street  dress,  a  yellow  fur  about  her  throat,  warm, 
seductive.  He  had  sent  the  divine  Page  the  bouquet 
in  paper  lace.  But  she  too  vanished.  He  heard  the 
strains  of  an  orchestra ;  lingering  he  had  missed  the 
overture,  and  it  might  be  the  first  duet  —  with  Geister 
in  superb  voice.  He  was  waiting  for  Mariana,  that 
was  it  ...  always  late.  Then  her  hand  was  under 
his  arm.  But  it  was  the  doctor  from  Jaffa. 

Rudolph  was  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  the  two 
men  moved  aside,  conversed  impolitely  in  hushed 
tones.  I'm  sick,  he  thought  lucidly.  One  word 
reached  him  —  oxygen.  It  all  melted  away  again, 
into  a  black  lake  with  ghostly  swans,  a  painted 
mouth  and  showering  confetti;  one  of  the  supreme 
waltzes  that  Johann  Strauss  alone  could  compose. 
Later  a  woman  in  a  folded  linen  cap  was  seated  be- 
side him,  a  chimera.  But  she  laid  cool  fingers  on  his 
wrist,  held  a  brownish,  distasteful  mixture  to  his  lips. 
A  draught  of  egg  nog  was  better,  although  it  wasn't 
402 


as  persuasive  as  some  he  had  had:  Bundy  Provost's, 
for  example. 

Bundy  was  a  galliard  youth,  but  he  was  clear 
as  ice  underneath.  He  wouldn't  have  let  them  put 
that  thing  over  his,  Howat's,  face.  He  tried  to  turn 
aside,  but  a  cap  of  darkness  descended  upon  him. 
Afterward  his  breathing  was  easier.  A  blue  iron 
tank  was  standing  nearby,  and  the  nurse  was  remov- 
ing a  rubber  mask  attached  to  a  flexible  tube.  The 
latter  led  from  a  glass  bottle,  with  a  crystal  pipe 
into  the  tank;  the  bottle  held  water;  and  the  water 
was  troubled  with  subsiding,  clear  bubbles.  More 
of  the  dark,  unpleasant  mixture,  more  egg  nog. 
Why  did  they  trouble  and  trouble  him  —  already  he 
was  late  getting  to  Irving  Place. 

The  opera,  as  he  had  feared,  had  commenced ;  and 
it  was  at  once  strange  and  familiar.  The  chorus 
and  orchestra  were  singing  in  a  deep  ground  tone ; 
the  stage  was  set  with  a  row  of  great,  seething  fur- 
naces ;  glaring  white  bars  of  light  cut  through  va- 
porous, yellow  gases  and  showered  steel  sparks  where 
coppery  figures  were  labouring  obscurely  in  a  flam- 
ing heat  that  rolled  out  over  the  audience.  There 
was  a  shrilling  of  violins,  and  then  a  deafening  blare 
of  brass,  an  appalling  volume  of  sound  pouring  out 
like  boiling  metal.  .  .  .  But  here  was  Rudolph ;  the 
performance  was  at  an  end ;  it  was  time  to  go  home. 

"  I  took  the  liberty  of  searching  for  —  for  Miss 
Jannan's  address,"  the  other  told  him.  Well,  and 
why  not !  "  Mr.  Provost  and  Mrs.  Jannan  are  away 

40S 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNYS 


for  a  week."  Howat  hoped  that  Kingsfrere  would 
not  turn  up  with  his  flat  face.  He  was  conscious  of 
smiling  at  a  memory  the  exact  shape  of  which  escaped 
him  —  something  humorous  that  had  happened  to 
the  pasty  youth.  A  refreshing  air  came  in  at  the 
open  windows,  and  he  struggled  for  a  full,  satisfy- 
ing breath.  The  relief  of  what  he  dimly  recognized 
as  oxygen  followed.  The  nurse  moved  to  the  door 
and  Mariana  entered. 

"  Howat,"  she  exclaimed,  sitting  beside  him,  "  how 
silly  of  you!  A  cold  now  with  winter  done.  The 
snow  is  running  away.  And  these  soda-watery 
tanks."  He  felt  a  warmth  communicated  by  her 
actual  presence.  "  It's  just  my  breathing,"  he  told 
her ;  "  it  gets  stopped  up.  A  damned  nuisance ! 
Did  Honduras  meet  you?  " 

She  assured  him  that  she  had  been  correctly  rer 
ceived,  and  vanished  to  remove  her  hat.  Mariana 
must  not  sit  in  here,  with  the  windows  open,  he  told 
the  nurse;  but  then,  he  added,  it  was  no  good  giving 
Mariana  advice.  She  wouldn't  listen  to  it,  except  to 
do  the  opposite.  She  came  back,  in  one  of  her 
eternal  knitted  things,  this  one  like  a  ripe  banana, 
and  sat  in  the  nurse's  place.  There  was  a  great 
deal  he  wanted  to  know,  in  a  few  minutes,  when  he 
felt  less  oppressed.  The  night  came  swiftly,  lit  by 
his  familiar  lamps;  Rudolph  moved  about  in  the 
orderly  disposition  of  fresh  white  laundry.  A  coat 
needed  pressing.  It  would  do  to-morrow.  The  doc- 
404 


tor  hurt  him  with  a  little  scraping  stab  at  the  bot- 
tom of  his  ear. 

"  Mariana,"  he  at  last  made  the  effort  of  speech, 
questioning:  "I  have  been  bothered  about  your  — 
your  temporary  arrangement.  That  Harriet,  you 
know  .  .  .  make  trouble." 

"  Why,  Howat,"  she  replied,  admirably  detached ; 
"  you  don't  read  the  important  sheets  of  the  papers ! 
Harriet  has  made  a  tremendous  success  with  what 
was  supposed  to  be  a  small  part.  A  New  York 
manager  has  engaged  her  in  letters  of  fire,  for  an 
unthinkable  amount.  James  and  I  sent  her  our  ob- 
scure compliments,  but  we  were  virtuously  rebuked 
by  a  legal  gentleman.  Harriet,  it  seems,  is  going 
to  cast  us  off." 

Of  all  that  she  had  said  only  the  word  obscure  re- 
mained in  his  mind ;  and  it  roused  in  him  an  echo 
of  his  old,  dogmatic  pride.  "  Mariana,"  he  de- 
manded, "  didn't  the  reorganization  come  about ; 
isn't  James  Polder  superintendent?  " 

She  hesitated,  then  replied  in  a  low,  steady  voice. 
"  Yes,  Howat,  it  did ;  but  they  didn't  move  Jim  up. 
An  older,  they  said  steadier,  man  was  chosen."  It 
was  the  oranges,  he  told  himself,  the  oranges  and 
brandy ;  the  cursed  young  fool.  "  You  must  come 
away,  Mariana,"  he  continued  more  faintly ;  "  fair 
trial,  failure  —  something  to  yourself,  our  family." 

"  Leave  Jimmy  because  he  wasn't  made  superin- 
tendent ! "  she  replied  in  an  abstracted  impatience. 

405 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

Then,  "  I  wonder  about  a  smaller  plant  ?  Won't 
you  understand,  Howat,"  she  leaned  softly  over  him ; 
"  I  need  Jim  as  badly  as  he  needs  me ;  perhaps  more. 
If  I  had  any  superior  illusions  they  have  all  gone. 
I  can't  tell  us  apart.  Of  course,  I'd  like  him  to  get 
on,  but  principally  for  himself.  Jim,  every  bit  of 
him,  the  drinking  and  tempers,  and  tenderness  you 
would  never  suspect,  is  my  —  oxygen.  I  can  see 
that  you  want  to  know  if  I  am  happy;  but  I  can't 
tell  you,  Howat.  Perhaps  that's  the  answer,  and  I 
am  —  I  have  a  feeling  of  being  a  part  of  something 
outside  personal  happiness,  something  that  has  tied 
Jim  and  me  together  and  gone  on  about  a  larger  af- 
fair. You  see,  Howat,  I  wasn't  consulted,"  she 
added  in  a  more  familiar  impudence ;  "  whether  I 
was  pleased  or  not  didn't  appear  to  matter.  In  a 
position  like  that  it's  silly  to  talk  about  happiness 
as  if  it  were  like  the  thrill  at  your  first  ball." 

He  drifted  away  from  her  through  the  nebulous 
haze  deepening  about  him.  An  occasional,  objec- 
tive buzzing  penetrated  to  his  removed  place ;  but  all 
the  while  he  realized  that  he  was  getting  farther  and 
farther  from  such  interruptions  of  an  effort  to  dis- 
tinguish a  vaguely  familiar,  veiled  shape.  He  saw, 
at  last,  that  it  was  Howat,  a  black  Penny.  It  was 
at  once  himself  and  that  other  Howat,  yes,  and 
Jasper.  All  three  unremarkably  merged  into  one. 
And  the  acts  of  the  first,  a  dark  young  man  with  an 
erect,  impatient  carriage,  a  countenance  and  gaze 
of  vigorous  scorn,  accumulated  in  a  later  figure, 
406 


THE  METAL 


hardly  less  upright,  slender,  but  touched  with  grey 
—  a  man  in  the  middle  of  life.  He  paid  with  an  an- 
guished spirit  for  what  had  taken  place;  and  at  last 
an  old  man  lingered  with  empty  hands,  the  husk  of  a 
passion  that  had  burned  out  all  vitality. 

Mariana,  too,  had  been  drawn  into  the  wide  impli- 
cations of  this  mingled  past  and  present.  But  now, 
clearly,  he  recognized  in  her  the  meeting  of  spirit  and 
flesh  that  had  been  denied  to  him.  That  was  life, 
he  thought,  that  was  happiness.  In  the  absence  of 
such  consummation  he  had  come  to  nothing.  In 
Jasper,  in  Susan  Brundon  who  had  married  him  over 
late,  the  two  had  warred. 

Life  took  the  spirit  to  itself,  mysteriously;  wove 
the  gold  thread  into  its  design  of  scarlet  and  earth 
and  green,  or  else  ...  a  hearth  soon  cold,  the  walls 
of  a  Furnace  crumbled  and  broken,  a  ruin  covered 
from  memory  by  growing  leafage  and  grass  throb- 
bing with  the  song  of  robins,  the  shrilling  of  frogs  in 
the  meadow. 

The  doctor  and  nurse,  Rudolph  and  Mariana, 
moved  about  him  in  a  far,  low  stir.  At  times  they 
approached  on  a  lighter  flood  of  oxygen.  Mariana 
wiped  his  lips  —  an  immaterial  red  stain.  But 
what  was  that  confounded  opera  the  name  of  which 
he  had  forgot?  It  would  be  in  his  albums;  in  the 
first,  probably.  Downstairs.  He  had  a  sudden 
view  of  Mariana's  face  as  she  returned  with  the 
volume.  An  expression  of  piercing  concern  over- 
whelmed the  reassuring  smile  she  had  for  him. 

407 


THE  THREE  BLACK  PENNY S 

Howat  understood  at  last,  he  was  dying.  An  in- 
stinctive shuddering  seized  him;  not  in  fear  of  the 
obliterating  fact ;  but  from  a  physical  revulsion  bred 
by  his  long  years  of  delicate  habit. 

Yet  it  wouldn't  do  to  expose  Mariana  to  the  ter- 
rors; and,  after  a  sharp,  inward  struggle,  he  said 
almost  fretfully,  "  Further  on."  She  turned  the 
pages  slowly;  but  no  one  could  read  without  a  de- 
cent light.  He  moved  his  head,  in  an  infinity  of 
labour,  toward  the  clear,  grey  opening  of  the  win- 
dow, and  saw  a  pattern  of  flying  geese  wavering 
across  the  tranquil  sky. 


THE   END 


408 


vj  o 


A     000103973     4 


